EMERSON  — POET  AND  ESSAYIST 


BY 

RALPH  C.  PELTZ 


THESIS 

FOR  THE 

DEGREE  OF  BACHELOR  OF  ARTS 

IN 

ENGLISH  LITERATURE 


COLLEGE  OF  LIBERAL  ARTS  AND  SCIENCES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 


1921 


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CONTENTS 


Chapter  I — Page 

Life  and  Character  1 

Chapter  II — 11 

The  Journals 

Chapter  III--  22 

Poems  of  the  Inner  Man 

Chapter  IV — 

Poems  of  the  1/Vorld 

Chapter 

“ Essays  on  the  Men  of  Letters 

Chapter  VI — 58 

Essays,  Political  and  Social 

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I 


Chapter  I 

Life  and  Character. 

"How  shall  a man  escape  from  his  ancestors?"  Emerson  asks  us; 
and  indeed  it  seems  that  in  his  case,  at  least,  all  the  influences 
of  heredity  are  operative,  for  we  find  the  descendant  of  eight 
generations  of  ministers  engaged  in  the  ministry,  talking,  lectur- 
ing, writing.  Somewhere,  however,  there  must  have  entered  a strain 
producing  characteristics  not  altogether  amenable  to  the  life  of 
the  usual  Hew  England  minister.  Emerson  disagreed  frequently  and 
widely  with  his  contemporaries,  and  as  G.  W.  Cooke  says  in  his  book 
on  Emerson’s  "Life,  Writings  and  Philosophy,"  kept  for  himself  only 
that  which  he  considered  best  in  the  old  faith:  "Its  doctrines  had 
passed  away,  and  left  only  its  spiritual  life  behind.” 

Cooke  goes  on  to  say,  in  his  chapter  on  Emerson’s  ancestry, 
that  "Such  an  ancestry,  physical  and  spiritual,  is  a promise  of  the 
richest  culture,  as  it  is  of  the  finest  natural  powers.  Emerson 

What  He  Owed  to  has  not  only  made  good  this  promise,  but  added 

Ancesti^y 

to  it  a remarkable  genius  and  a unique  spirit- 
ual insight.  ^0  his  ancestry  he  owes  much  of  the  quality  and  direc- 
tion of  that  genius,  as  well  as  the  fine  flavor  and  arojna  of  his 
character,  and  the  rich  spiritual  grace  of  his  thought.  We  may  well 
propound  his  own  question,  ’How  shall  a man  escape  from  his  anceswoi* 
tors?’  For  we  find  in  his  books  a confirmation  of  his  declaration, 
that  ’in  different  hours  a man  represents  each  of  several  of  his 
ancestors,  as  if  there  were  seven  or  eight  of  us  rolled  uo  in  each 
other’s  skin, --seven  or  eight  ancestors  at  least, --and  they  con- 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2015 


https://archive.org/details/emersonpoetessayOOpelt 


2 


stitute  the  variety  of  notes  for  that  new  piece  of  music  vihich  his 
life  is.’  So  we  find  him  summing  up  and  repeating,  with  a master’s 
stroke  of  genius,  the  life  and  the  thought  of  all  his  Puritan  an- 
cestors; which  has  been,  in  substance,  the  life  and  the  thought  of 
New  England." 

We  are  told  further  by  Cooke  that  each  of  the  eight  ministerial 

predecessors  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  held  positions  of  honor  and  note 

in  religious  thought,  and  that  the  summation  of  their  thoughts  and 

activities  may  well  stand  as  a religious  history  of  New  England. 

It  is  not  necessary,  in  this  paper,  to  go  into  detail  concerning  the 

parts  play.^d  by  Emerson’s  forefathers  in  early  colonial  history; 

suffice  it  to  say  that  each  was  alive  to  the  spirit  of  the  times, 

and  advanced  in  his  theology  with  the  trend  of  religious  thought 

of  the  day,  so  that,  in  the  Emerson  whom  we  are  considering,  we  may 

well  expect  to  find  the  sort  of  thinker  v/hom  we  do  find.  ^11  of 

the  Emerson  family,  we  are  assured  by  Cooke,  in  his  careful  record 

Mingling  of  of  their  early  history,  "were  intellectual 

Characteristics 

eloquent,  with  a strong  individuality  of 
character,  and  robust  and  vigorous  in  their  thinking.  They  were 
pious  and  devout,  but  also  practical  and  philanthropic.  More  than 
of  the  family  have  graduated  at  New-England  colleges,  and 
twenty  have  been  ministers.  His  mother’s  family  were  noted  for  a 
remarkable  spirituality  of  temperament,  for  great  religious  zeal, 
and  were  naturally  mystics  or  pietists."  The  intellectuality  and 
moral  vigor  of  the  one  family,  and  the  devoutness  and  mysticism 

other,  were  both  inherited  by  Emerson.  He  was  nurtured  in 
the  most  spiritual  phases  of  the  old  faith. 


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Ralph  Vi/aldo  Emerson  was  born  in  Boston,  May  25.  1803 . His 
father  died  while  the  boy  was  only  seven  years  old.  Upon  the  de- 
vout and  loving  mother,  then,  descended  the  responsibility  of  car- 
ing for  her  five  sons , --William,  Ralph  Waldo,  Edward  Bliss,  Peter 
Bulkeley,  and  Charles  Chauncy.  Rev.  R.  L.  Prothingham,  in  The 
Christian  Examiner  for  January,  1854 . describes  Emerson’s  mother 
as  possessed  of  "great  patience  and  fortitude,  of  the  serenest 
trust  ibn  God,  of  a discerning  spirit,  and  a most  courteous  bearing, 
one  who  knew  how  to  guide  the  affairs  of  her  own  house,  as  long  as 

she  was  responsible  for  that , with  the  sweetest 


Emerson ’ s 
Mother 


authority,  and  knew  how  to  give  the  least  trouble 
o,nd  the  greatest  happiness  after  that  authority  was  resigned,  Both 
her  mind  and  her  character  were  of  a superior  order,  and  they  set 
their  stamp  upon  manners  of  peculiar  softness  and  natural  grace  and 
quiet  dignity.  Her  sensible  and  kindly  speech  was  always  as  good 
as  the  best  instruction;  her  smile,  thought  it  was  ever  ready,  was 
a reward.  Her  dark,  liquid  eyes,  from  which  old  age  could  not  take 
away  the  expression,  will  be  among  the  remembrances  of  all  on  whom 
they  ever  rested." 

In  the  care  of  her  sons,  over  whom  she  always  exercised  a pro- 
nounced influence,  Mrs.  Emerson  was  materially  assisted,  particular- 
ly spiritually,  by  Miss  Mary  Moody  Emerson,  the  sister  of  her  husband 
Miss  Emerson  was  one  of  those  strong  characters,  decided  in  her 
opinions,  yet  with  a gentleg.esg  and  kindliness  that  did  much  to  win 
the  lasting  love  of  her  nephew.  Emerson,  throughout  her  life,  made 
her  his  confidential  correspondent,  telling  her  of  his  hopes,  plans, 
successes,  failures.  Even  when  he  was  a boy  he  wrote  to  her  from 


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Hlg  Aunt  and  sohool;  and  one  finds  in  his  Journals  frequent 

TTonfid'ante 

references  to  her.  Describing  Miss  Emerson,  Mrs. 
Samuel  Ripley,  in  "Worthy  Women  of  Our  First  Century,"  page  174, 
says  that  even  in  her  old  age  she  still  retained  "all  the  oddities 
and  enthusiasms  of  her  youth, — a person  at  war  with  society  as  to 
all  its  decorums,"  who  "enters  into  conversation  with  everybody, 
and  talks  on  every  sub.iect;  is  sharp  as  a razor  in  her  satire,  and 
sees  you  through  and  through  in  a moment.  She  hss  read,  all  her 
life,  in  the  most  miscellaneous  way;  and  her  appetite  for  metaphysics 
is  insatiable.  Alas  for  the  victim  in  whose  intellect  she  sees  any 
promise’.  Descartes  and  his  vortices,  Leibnitz  and  his  monads, 

Spinoza  and  his  unica  substantia,  will  prove  it  to  the  very  core. 

But,  notwi thstanding  all  this,  her  power  over  the  minds  of  her 
young  friends  was  almost  despotic.  Bhe  heard  of  me,  when  I was 
sixteen  years  old,  as  a person  devoted  to  books  and  a sick  mother, 
sought  me  out  in  my  garret  without  any  introduction,  and,  though 
received  at  first  with  sufficient  coldness,  she  did  not  give  me  up 
till  she  had  enchained  me  entirely  in  her  magic  circle."  Certainly 

©n£rson__J_s  a woman  of  these  characteristics  might  well  be 
Influence 

imagined  as  possessing  and  exerting  a pronounced 
influence  over  the  impressionable  boy,  Emerson. 

His  aunt  was  in  the  way  of  being  his  literary  counsellor,  and 
often  wrote  to  him  regarding  his  early  poetic  attempts,  in  which  he 
was  greatly  interested;  and  this  interest  of  his  aunt’s  was  shared 
in  no  small  degree  by  her  intimate  personal  friend.  Miss  Sarah 
Bradford.  When  the  boy  Emerson  was  eleven  years  old,  this  friend 
of  his  aunt’s  is  reported  as  having  written  him:  "You  love  to  trifle 
in  rhyme  a little  now  and  then;  why  will  you  not  complete  this 


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5 


versification  of  the  fifth  bucolic?"  sending  him  a translation  from 

Virgil,  "You  will  answer  two  ends,  or,  as  the  old  proverb  goes, 

kill  two  birds  with  one  st one , --improve  in  your  Latin,  as  well  as 

indulge  a taste  for  poetry.  Why  can’t  you  write  me  a letter  in 

Latin?  But  Greek  is  your  favorite  language;  epistola  in  lingua 

Graeca  would  be  still  better.  All  the  honor  will  be  on  my  part  to 

correspond  with  a young  gentleman  in  Greek.  Tell  me  what  most 

interests  you  in  Rollin;  in  the  wars  of  contending  princes  under 

whose  banner  you  enlist,  to  whose  cause  you  ardently  wish  success. 

Write  me  with  what  stories  in  Virgil  you  are  most  delighted.”  And, 

The  Boy  as  a the  account  given  by  Cooke  goes  on  to  say,  the 

Translator 

young  schoolboy  answered  this  letter,  which  WDuld 
be  a strange  one  indeed  to  be  written  to  the  average  eleven-year- 
old  boy  tf  today,  with  a poetic  rendering  of  the  fifth  bucolic, 
from  the  nineteenth  to  the  thirty-fifth  line,  a few  verses  of  which, 
quoted,  will  serve  to  show  admirably  what  was  the  skill  of  Emerson 
at  that  early  day: 

"Mop.  Turn  nov/,  0 youth’,  from  your  long  speech  away; 

The  bower  we’ve  reached,  recluse  from  sunny  ray. 

The  nymphs  with  pomp  have  mourned  for  Daphnis  dead; 

The  hazels  witnessed,  and  the  rivers  fled. 

The  wretched  mother  clasped  her  lifeless  child. 

And  gods  and  stars  invoked  in  accents  wild, 

Daphnis’.  the  cows  are  not  novtf  led  to  streams 
Where  the  bright  sun  upon  the  water  gleams; 

Neither  do  herds  the  cooling  river  drink. 

Nor  crop  the  grass  upon  the  verdant  brink." 

But  while  Emerson  was  thus  exercising  those  cowers  and  talents 
which  were  to  make  him  later  one  of  the  m.ost  outstanding  figures  in 
American  literature,  how  was  he  occupied  in  school?  It  seems  that 
he  had  an  apparent  disregard  for  the  ordinary,  workaday  studies  of 
the  curriculup,for  he  writes  in  "Spiritual  Laws,"  in  his  first 


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6 


series  of  essays,  *^The  regular  course  of  studies,  the  years  of 
academical  and  professional  education,  have  not  yielded  me  better 
facts  than  some  idle  books  under  the  bench  at  the  I^atin  school. 
What  we  do  not  call  education  is  more  precious  than  that  which  we 
do  call  so." 

Prom  the  Latin  School  Emerson  went  to  harvard  college  in  his 

YQ8-rs  at  fourteenth  year,  and  was  graduated  from  that  in- 
College 

stitution  in  1821.  During  his  four  years  at  Har- 
vard, he  took  an  active  interest  in  literary  affairs,  and,  as  he 
was  interested  in  omtory  and  declamation,  bent  his  efforts  in 
that  direction,  too,  and  won  several  prizes.  It  is  amusing  now  to 
read  what  Josiah  Quincy,  a classmate  and  rival  in  declamation,  said 
of  Emerson  after  the  valedictory  exercises;  Quincy  wrote  in  his 
journal,  July  I6,  182I,  "Attended  a dissertation  of  Emerson’s  in 
the  morning,  on  the  subject  of  Ethical  Philosophy.  I found  it  long 
and  dry,"  The  next  day,  it  is  reported,  Quincy  went  to  the  chapel, 
"where  Barnwell  and  Emerson  performed  our  valedictory  exercises 
before  all  the  scholars  and  a number  of  ladies.  I’hey  were  rather 
poor,  and  did  but  little  honor  to  the  class,"  Perhaps  there  was  a 
tinge  of  semi-professional  jealousy  and  prejudice  in  Quincy’s  re- 
marks to  his  journal,  for  he  had  won  first  prize  in  a contest  for 
the  Bowdoin  award,  in  which  trial  Emerson  took  second. 

In  1823  Emerson  began  the  study  of  theology,  studying  largely 
under  Channing,  who  particularly  attracted  the  young  student  be- 
cause of  his  gentleij  lovable  spirit,  the  high  purpose  of  his 
religious  rk,  and  the  nobility  of  his  thought.  It  was  Ghanning’s 
idea  that  G6d  is  made  known  to  mortals  only  by  such  moral  laws  as 


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7 


may  be  found  within  us,  beoause  he  held,  with  some  metaphysicians 


contact  with  such  a thinker,  perhaps,  and  perhaps  because  it  was 
his  natural  tendency,  Emerson  began  at  this  time  to  entertain  doubts 
as  to  the  forms  of  religion.  This  doubt  of  his  eventuated  in  his 
leaving  the  pulpit,  although  he  was,  are  told  by  Sanborn  in 
Scribner’s  magazine  for  February,  1879,  eloquent,  simple  and  effec- 
tive in  the  pulpit.  In  the  latter  part  of  1832,  some  short  years 
after  he  had  been  ordained,  Emerson  resigned  his  pastorate  because 


let  him  believe  his  way,  and  they  continue  in  theirs,  so  that  he 
would  retain  his  charge,  wherein  he  was  universally  beloved,  but  he 
thought  it  best  to  resign.  In  8 sermon  which  he  preached  at  the 
time  of  his  resignation,  he  set  forth  his  ideas  as  to  the  forms  of 
religion  in  this  wise:  (reported  in  Frothingham’ s History  of  New 
England  Transcendentalism)  "The  whole  world  was  full  of  idols  and 
ordinances,  '^he  Jewish  was  a religion  of  forms.  The  Eagan  was  a 
religion  of  forms;  it  was  all  body,— it  had  no  life,— and  the 
Almighty  God  was  pleased  to  qualify  and  send  forth  a man  to  teach 
men  that  they  must  serve  him  with  the  heart;  that  only  that  life 
was  religious  which  was  thoroughly  good;  that  sacrifice  was  smoke, 
and  forms  were  shadows.  This  man  lived  and  died  true  to  this  pur- 
pose; and  now,  with  his  blessed  word  and  life  before  us,  Christians 
must  contend  that  it  is  a matter  of  vital  importance--really  a duty- 
-to  commemorate  him  by  a certain  form,  whether  that  form  be  agree- 
able to  their  understandings  or  not.  Is  not  this  to  make  vain  the 


Early  Doubts  of 
Formalism  ~ 


of  Europe,  that  man  and  God  are  one  and  the 
same  in  substance  — One  through  nature.  Through 


His  Pastorate 
I^esigried 


he  could  not  conscientiously  conduct  the  usual 
communion  service.  His  congregation  offered  to 


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gift  of  God?  Is  not  this  to  turn  back  the  hand  on  the  dial?  Is 
not  this  to  make  men — to  makie  ourselves — forget  that  not  forms,  but 
duties — not  names,  but  righteousness  and  love — are  en,ioined?  and 
that,  in  the  eye  of  God,  there  is  no  other  measure  of  the  value  of 
any  one  form  than  the  measure  of  its  use?" 

Following  his  resignation  from  the  pulpit,  Emerson  travelled 
in  Europe,  where  he  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  many  men  in  whom  he 
was  interested.  It  was  while  there  that  he  gathered  material  for 


spent  much  of  his  time  in  lecturing  and  in  preparing  material  for 
publication.  His  first  wife,  Ellen  Louisa  ^i'ucker,  whom  he  had 
married  in  1829,  had  died  in  1832,  and  her  death  was  a distinct 
shock  to  Emerson,  who  was  in  frail  health  at  the  time.  However, 
his  tour  of  Europe  in  some  measure  brought  back  his  vigor;  and  upon 
his  return,  he  {reached  for  several  months  at  the  Unitarian  church 
in  Hew  Bedford,  but  refused  a call  to  settle  there,  in  1834.  In  the 
summer  of  that  year  he  settled  at  "The  Old  Manse"  in  Concord,  where 
he  found  an  ideal  place  for  study  and  meditation;  and  the  fruits  of 
those  country-thoughts  appeared  the  next  year,  when  he  began  a cours<! 
of  lectures  in  Boston.  This  first  real  lecture  course  was  biograph- 
ical, and  treated  of  Luther,  Milton,  Burke,  Michael  Ai^elo,  and  Fox. 
All  these  lectures,  together  with  the  introductory  remarks  on  the 
value  of  biography,  were  published,  and  added  to  his  growing  popular- 


In September,  1835,  Emerson  married  Hydia  Jackson,  and,  with 


Travels  in 
Europe 


his  (later)  essays  on  "Representative  Men"  and 
English  Traits."  After  his  return  from  abroad,  he 


ity . 


Beginning 
A Career 


her  and  his  mother,  settled  in  the  home  on  the 
Cambridge  turnpike,  in  Concord,  where  he  lived  the 


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r0ni8.iiid.©r  of  liis  lif©  • X835  rns.rlcs  "th©  djit©  of  t/h©  r©8.1  bsgiiiniD^ 

of  Emerson^ s lecturing  and  essay-writing  career;  and  in  addition, 
he  turned  to  studies  from  which  most  of  his  writings  on  idealism 

derived.  He  took  up  the  study  of  Plato  with  renewed  interest, 
and  also  read  in  the  works  of  the  German  and  English  idealists. 

Transcendentalism  was  ,1^st  beginning  to  attract  the  radicals 
of  the  day,  and  to  it  Emerson  turned.  Throughout  his  life,  however, 
he  resented  the  use  of  the  term  ” transcendentalist , " as  reported 
by  E,  1),  Mead  in  "The  Influence  of  Emerson,"  "Transcendentalism  is 


had  a philosophy.  Men  call  him  a Transcendentalist,  as  they  called 
him  and  his  friends  sixty  years  ago.  He  did  not  like  the  term,  and 
thought  that  most  people  who  used  it  knew  little  about  what  it  meant 
As  commonly  used  by  the  intelligent  man  sixty  years  ago  or  now,  and 
as  accepted  by  Emerson,  it  is  simply  another  word  for  Idealist. 

."What  is  popularly  called  Transcendentalism  among  us,"  he  said 
himself,  in  the  midst  of  the  Transcendental  movement  in  ■^'*ew  Eng- 
land, "is  Idealism, --Idealism  as  it  appears  in  1842."  "The  Idealism 
of  the  present  day,"  he  said,  "acquired  the  name  of  Transcendental 
from  the  use  of  that  term  by  Immanuel  Kant,  of  Kbnigsberg,  who 
replied  to  the  sceptical  philosophy  of  Locke,  which  insisted  that 
there  was  nothing  in  the  intellect  which  was  not  previously  in  the 


was  a very  important  class  of  ideas,  or  imperative 
forms,  which  did  not  come  by  experience,  but  through  which  exper- 
ience was  acquired;  that  these  were  intuitions  of  the  mind  itself; 


Interest  in 
Transcendentalism 


the  popular  term  for  the  philosophy  of 
Emerson,  with  those  who  recognize  that  he 


Emerson  and 


experience  of  the  ssenses,  by  showing  that  there 


Idealism' 


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10 

and  he  denominated  them  Transcendental  forms.  The  extraordinary- 

profoundness  and  precision  of  that  man ^ s thinking  hare  given  vogue 

to  his  nomenclature,  in  Europe  and  America,  to  that  extent,  that 

whatever  belongs  to  the  class  of  intuitive  thought  is  popularly 

called  at  the  present  day  Transcendenta  1. ” 

The  interest  which  Emerson  had  in  Transcendentalism,  or  in 

Idealism  under  whatever  name,  continued;  and  he  was  an  ardent 

supporter  of  the  various  clubs  and  schools  of  the  idealistic  thought, 

and  also  was  one  of  the  Brook  Farm  experimenters.  However,  he  did 

not  "go  in"  for  the  movement  as  strongly  as  did  some  others,  having 

many  other  interests,  among  which  literature  was  steadily  growing. 

Meantime  he  was  continuing  his  lectures;  and  gave  in  Boston  in 

1838-9  a course  on  "The  Resources  of  the  Present  Age."  Two  of  the 

lectures  in  this  course  dealt  with  literature;  others  were  "Private 

Xife,"  "Reformers,"  "Religion ," "Ethics , " "Education;"--  followed 

Lecture  the  next  year  by  a course  on  "Human  life,"  in  which  he 
bourses 

took  up  "The  Laws  of  Love,"  "Home,"  "The  School," 
"Genius,"  "The  Protest,"  "Tragedy",  "Oomedy,"  "Duty,"  "Deraon- 
lolgy.  Erorfi  this  time  on,  the  Emerson  whom  all  who  read  American 
literature’s  masterpieces  know,  came  into  the  being  as  he  is  usually 
seen;  and  it  is  unnecessary  to  follow  the  long  course  of  lecturing 
and  writing  that  ensued.  Poetry  occupied  a part  of  his  time,  and 
original  writing  some;  but  the  larger  part  of  his  work  was  in  lectur- 
ing, his  lectures  afterward  being  prepared  for  publication.  His  fame 
increased  abroad  as  raoidly  as  it  did  in  America,  until  the  position 
which  he  has  been  rightfully  accorded  was  assured, 

- 0 - 


>1-'’ 


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. -i . 


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i'ft 


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n 


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t 

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•"'  nd 

fl  ei?  ; 

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1 


■— Uj>«i  iawsw*^-t  i^jia-^esaBsy^i 


Chapter  II 


The  Journals 

-0- 


"These  journals  are  reflections,  sometimes  dim,  sometimes 

clear,  of  the  inner  life  as  stirred  by  the  outer Throughout, 

^nd  increasingly  in  later  years,  these  are  journals,  not  of  in- 
cidents and  persons,  but  of  thoughts." 

— E.W. Emerson,  Introduction  to  Annotated 

J oumals  • 

— 0— 


An  accurate  insight  into  the  life  and  thought  of  Emerson  is 
obtained  by  studying  his  Journals,  kept  for  more  than  fifty  years. 

It  is  true  that  an  analysis  of  his  writings  goes  a long  way  toward 
giving  one  an  understanding  of  the  motivation  of  Emerson’s  thought, 
and  of  his  beliefs,  doubts,  prejudices;  but  in  manyaases,  particu- 
larly in  the  essays,  the  finished  writings  have  been  "purged  of 
personality,"  as  Edward  W.  Emerson,  his  son  and  literary  executor, 
says.  It  follows,  then,, that  only  by  reading  the  Journals,  towhici 
were  confided  the  hopes,  plans,  desired,  literary  ambitions  of 
Emerson  from  the  age  of  seventeen  onward,  can  one  come  to  know  the 
man  as  he  really  was,  and  trace  his  thoughts  in  the  making. 

It  is  rare  that  a man  keeps  a record  of  his  thoughts  as  full 

and  accurate  as  that  which  Emerson  kept  in  his  Journals,  '-‘•'here  is 

Intiraate  Record  the  almost  inevitable  tendencv  to  make  a flia-m- 
Of  ^is  Thoughts 

if  it  is  to  be  kept  continuously,  a literary 
work;  or,  if  it  is  not  to  be  a literary  work,  and  is  not  con- 
sciously designed  for  that  by  its  writer,  then  it  has  too  many 
breaks,  too  many  omissions,  to  be  of  real  value  in  studying  the 
man.  But  neither  of  these  faults  mars  Emerson’s  Journals.  He 
wrote  in  them  with  a surprising  regularity,  and  he  probably  with- 


-siBasifataSbiSi^ 


I.  r J r 


^ I 

'•’  t, 


....  . . 


( V ' n?'* 


V'  . .«■ 


fi.'f'Z  k r , 


'■'  I ,!^.\  : on 


» . f . ^ 


? / . 


' -I  "v 


'f  Ifo>  ';j  i 


.* 


•,  '•  nr: 


'S-- 


^ V ? i.  if 


- 


ffo  nJtj  (■ 


I -•  Ap  v*r, 

o«/ 


■—  — w»>‘ ' i*7  .?  r 


1 r 


. I 


* rflf**':r.ii‘.  dbtii- 


'AT**';  r. 


';  'TITT'^T 


. 'f 


.7 

' • ■'  r;  \o 

\ yM. 

I '«  . <:  i .i/iw 


u II  0 


:f.  .♦  ^ '.fO- 

; ifi  . . ■:' 
, .■‘C“ 


12 


held  little.  He  did  not  endeavor  to  make  a literary  masterpiece  of 
his  diary,  hut  set  down  from  day  to  day  his  activities  and  thoughts 
serious  or  trivial,  from  early  boyhood  to  old  age.  As  a result,  a 
study  of  the  Journals  is  singiilarly  valuable  to  the  student  of 
Emerson.  By  reading  what  he  wrote  in  his  seventeenth  year,  we  can 
see  why  some  of  his  essays,  written  in  middle  age,  are  what  they 
are.  An  evidence  of  character  or  tendency  in  youth  points  the  way 
to  the  principle  of  the  man. 

As  Edward  Emerson  says  of  the  early  Journals,  they  do  not 


show  merit  alone:  "They  show  the  soil  out  of  which  Emerson  grew, 
the  atmosphere  around,  his  habits  and  mental  food,  his  doubts,  his 

TOl^f™he\an  ^ earnest  purpose,  and  the  things  he  out- 

grew. His  frankness  with  himself  is  seen,  and 
how  he  granted  the  floor  to  the  adversary  for  a fair  hearing.  Also 
the  ups  and  downs  of  the  boy’s  health  appear  in  the  school-keepin g 
days,  and  why,  beyond  all  reasonable  hope,  considering  the  neglect 
of  the  body,  he  lived  to  a healthy  middle  life  and  old  age  by  his 
rambling  tendencies,  by  quietness,  and  bending  to  the  blast  which 
shattered  the  health  of  his  more  unyielding  brothers."  Certainly 
writings  which  will  tell  us  all  of  this  contain  a great  deal’.  But 
as  it  is  the  primary  purpose  of  this  paper  to  consider  Emerson’s 
writings  rather  than  to  peer  into  his  private  life,  social  activi- 
ties, or  family  relationships,  this  phase  of  his  Journal  entries 
may  be  passed  over  lightly. 

What  we  are  mainly  oonoeraed  with,  instudying  his  Journals, 

is  to  see  what  evidence  there  is  in  the 
earlier  of  the  vSilumes  of  habits  d)f  thought 


Evidence  of 
gab  it  s~~of  "Thought 


'i 


>.1V^ 


r.'  X 


jj  fp?.  «xn 


• 

•-.ffC  l"i<  t 

'■  l^.  '■ 

- ' 

. . .'1  '»  ^d^' 

X 

“ ■ 

■J 

■ ? P 

- 

, 

*<-  V 

“Vo 

- ' - 

' TO 

■'  ^ ■■  f ?v«^ 

■y  ‘ 

t 0»'/ 


'«  '-r 


r J>  fr^rt  h*\Q  r‘r  ■ 

4. 

‘ ■ ^ilW^S  (i/ 


C’f  *■ ' '’iTf>L”  ■ r*'- 

^r-'oSom^Ji  -tiM' 
n\i^r, ' 


• t \ vi.;^  .j  t 


-'tir::’‘ 


i:  ••'  Jj: 


rf  r fi 

^ r •'>  5 ’■’ 


•10,  n’  Wf'ri' 

r> 

-/^  ?iqn 


-sjf; 


r ' 


v;J 

», 


j i "■ 


;'V  -rr'*;-*  ; 

f',-.  ' - -tS:-'  ' 


■(  >'V'- 

• iv  e><3  •' 

>■  •>n(rat’. . 

3^r^- 

* ■ 


i \Q 


13 

literary  plans,  and  flashes  of  genius  which  later  develop  into  his 

finished  works  as  the  world  knows  them.  For  instance,  to  quote 

further  from  the  admirable  introduction  to  the  annotated  Journals 

by  Fdward  Emerson:  "in  these  years  (Emerson’s  youth)  the  young 

Emerson  was  reading  eagerly  and  widely,  and  learned  to  find  what 

the  author  or  the  college  text-book  had  for  him,  and  leave  the  rest, 

The  growth  of  his  literacy  taste,  his  style,  independence  of  thought, 

and  originality  in  writing  verse  can  be  traced It  was  Mr. 

Emerson’s  habit  often  in  later  years  to  copy  into  his  journal 

Natural  to  Him  passages  from  his  letters  to  others  in  which 
To  Write 

he  had  conveyed  his  thought  with  care 

It  was  as  natural  to  this  boy  to  write  as  to  another  to  play  ball, 
or  go  fishing,  or  experiment  with  the  tools  of  a neighbour  car- 
penter, or  feel  out  tunes  on  a musical  instrument.  When  recita- 
tions were  over,  and  study  did  not  press,  or  he  was  not  walking  in 
Mount  Auburn  woods  or  the  wild  country  around  Fresh  Pond,  he  be- 


took himself  to  his  journal.  It  was  his  confidential  friend;  his 
ambitions,  his  disappointments,  his  religious  meditations,  his 
mortifications,  his  romatic  imaginings,  his  sillinesses,  his  trial- 
flights  in  ‘verse,  his  joy  in  Byron  and  Scott,  or  Everett’s  orations, 
the  ideas  gathered  from  serious  books , --all  went  in,  everything  but 
what  might  be  expected  in  a boy’s  diary;  for  of  incidents,  of  class- 
mates, of  students'  doings,  there  is  hardly  an  entry.  Throughout, 
and  increasingly  in  later  years,  these  are  journals,  not  of  in- 

oiSents  and  persons,  but  of  thoughts.  With 


the  biograohy  of  Mr,  Emerson  in  mind  or 
in  hand,  the  outward  conditions,  or  relations  with  people  or 


t 1 • - ' ■ » 

■'.  1-542/  •'.  1 i I 

• 

i¥  . 

IK 

' O .1 

1 Jiii; ; ; 

• 

l‘  . . ;vj3f 

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1 1hn*®  f »rs*T' 

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V ')  r 1 

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" 

, ; y 

t ^ \ 

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; .■*  •• : 

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• 

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■ ' t»>  • '! 

' 

-?*3^  " fnaq 

■ 

' ' '■  Ji  ^ L ;•'■  , : 

,tyA  'f’T*»TV  t-ff''  i *' 

.-  -■ 

»•!>  *•  • 

i^?r  ( 

. .>u('v/a4 

*.  + 

• ■ . _ r 

■ : ••  ’ ■ M . 

■:'.n  : T^C  1 ^ i .flrto«'^ 

% 

■"  '••■  ' at  ‘^i'iXi'1 

• • , , : • 

^'-4  ^rf  *«f*  * 

; .;  - i'. X 1. 

' ' ■ . ’ . ^*r. 

’Kil,Eai  ■i^:’ 

■ ' ’ ■ 

■t  ' 

, ^i4&j 

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1 T 

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14 

public  events  which  suggested  a train  of  thought,  may  perhaps  be 
found.  A talk,  or  ramble  with  a friend,  or  the  reading  of  a book. 


may  be  mentioned,  but  soon  the  thought  takes  its  own  direction. 

More  often  the  thoughts  were  on  the  great,  the  abiding  questions.” 
An  example  of  the  tendency  mentioned"'  just  above  is  perhaps 
advantageous  here.  For  instance,  he  wrote  in  Journal  XII,  Dec- 
ember 13,  1823;  ” Edinburgh  Reviev/  has  a fine  eulogy  of  IJewton  and 
Dr.  Black,  etc.,  in  the  first  article  of  the  3d  Volume.  No.  xxxvi 
contains  a reviev/  of  %s.  Grant  on  Highlanders,  and,  in  it,  good 
thoughts  upon  the  progress  of  Manners . ”A  gentleman’s  character 
is  a compound  of  obligingness  and  self-esteem."  ^he  same  volume 
reviews  Alison,  and  gives  an  excellent  condensed  view  of  his  theory. 
The  charm  of  all  these  discussions  is  only  a fine  luxury,  producing 
scarce  any  good,  unless  that  of  substituting  a pure  pleasure  for 
impure.  Occasionally  this  reading  helps  one’s  conversation,  but 
seldom.  The  reason  and  whole  mind  is  not  forwarded  by  it,  as  by 
his to  ry.  The  good  in  life  that  seems  to  be  most  REAL,  is  not  found 
in  reading,  but  in  those  successive  triumphs  a man  achieves  over 
habits  of  moral  or  intellectual  indolence,  or  over  an  ungenerous 
Spirit  and  mean  propensities.” 

Enough  has  perhaps  been  said  in  Chapter  I,  dealing  with 
Emerson’s  life,  concerning  his  aunt.  Miss  iStary  Emerson.  The  boy 
wrote  often  to  her;  and  she,  in  turn,  responded  with  letters  which 
her  correspondent  copied  into  his  Journals.  It  is  sufficient,  in 

this  connection,  to  quote  part  of  a letter  from 
her,  recorded  in  Journal  V,  January  12,  1822, 


A Letter  from 
Eis  Aunt 


when  Emerson  was  eighteen  years  old;  ”?/hen  that  spell  which  can 


.f; 


ft 


% 


•r'  > ■ . ^ . O- 

*■  ^■'<  , •.>0'’]  ■'•:  r-  \\i‘(r 

xA  *■••-5  ’•■••  '.'f  a."  r»'.  “ r:  »tlo’ 

to  t::. 


f L>  •»  . 


1 ■ f"  ■*■ . *^otr  j’-'*!;.'' d ” f? 


,-  ' 


'iff 


■i'  ■ 'I  '■'; 


. t-  -ik 


■'■•■■  r . , 

' . ■ ■ r*  VV'X.  ■/}  BiU 

' »|' 

V?'  V.  .^rf;  .nr.'  f;  i;  td%  ... 

‘ \i  ' V--  '•  V -0  - 


■-<  ;.n  ,U  o. 


’.i:  \r,  V 

■'■  ■»  ! 


.-  I<  i*?/;  r&' 


t A . 


'■ ''  “I 


■ ■'•  /-(  , ■ u -A  7 -1'*:^  rvr>r«'  iio: 

V - . j,.. 


i';T 


* ‘ ■ Tr  l.  • yj  X} 

‘ ^ V ■ . T; 

' ••'  - ''  ■*  ’ ;5‘ ■•;•  V i« . ‘‘ijc-  f 

1 . , 

'-■  , ■ "-»  Y *'  - *-  ' •'  > -0 'di  . “r'Sr  : 

f*oc?5 

•-•■-••  ■■•  ^ ‘ d:  .til'  .• 


.<•11!.:  d 


**  c, 


r.-M-'-X  v>r>  ' 


C<  ■'  • L * 1 d t.\-\ 


' I 


^ Hwi 


'■  ot  t!- 


..!■>{.  ATC‘\f 


. ',r.  .I’l  , ' 

• ■ 'nt:  .^fV-o,:;.  . V.,  : , ,,  , , .._  - 

' ' • • • ■ ■'  ' < !■  'V' : ._■  '"■'  .'■  ■•  • n'l^-  Cl  . ’I’ipO  t< 

f «■  tjl  . ;',  ' f »>  .in.'  >.>  I.  . .»r^  ' 


' ' f>  ' lO-:  -H 


!-;<:■'■  '■  ,.<v 


:'•>  (I 


15 

only  be  felt  is  thrown  over  the  soul  by  the  inagic  of  genius,  ’Now 
lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  where  all  is  boundless  genius-~or 
let  us  tarry  forever  in  this  grave,  if  thus  illuminated,  ’ is  the 
adoring  language  of  the  heart.  Is  it  not  a well  Imow  principle 
of  human  nature  that  moments  of  enthusiasm  can  produce  sacrifices 
which  demand  no  proportionate  virtue  to  those  which  never  pretend 
to  fame?" .... 

I shall  delay  until  the  conclusion  of  this  chapter  consid- 
eration of  the  strictly  literary  phases  of  the  Journals,  feeling 
that  the  proper  place  for  material  of  this  nature  is  in  juxta- 
position to  the  ensuing  chapter,  which  deals  with  some  of  the 
literary  products  of  Emerson’s  later  life.  Here,  then,  it  is  also 

Tl^  Inner  Life  appropriate  to  look  at  some  of  those  pages  of 

Shd  Fhe  Outer 

the  Journals  whereon  we  find  recorded  some  of 
the  "reflections,  sometimes  dim,  sometimes  clear,  of  the  inner 
life  as  stirred  by  the  outer."  Religion,  in  some  one  of  its 
manifold  phases,  was  ever  near  Emerson’s  heart;  his  thoughts  turned 
to  it  with  frequency  in  boyhood,  early  manhood,  and  old  age.  I^his 
is,  of  course,  what  might  be  expected,  I feel  that  the  consider- 
ation of  some  of  his  thoughts  anent  religious  matters  in  this 
place  will  serve  as  introductory  matter  for  the  following  chapter, 
wherein  are  discussed  his  more  personal  poems--those  in  which  the 
keynote  is  religion  and  the  self. 

A progressive,  chronological  system  of  quotations  from  the 
Journals,  touching  upon  religion,  is,  of  opurse,  unthinkable; 

Change  in  for  to  attempt  this  WDUld  be  to  render  this 

Religious  Ideas 

chapter  unv/ieldy.  However,  I have  carefully 


= ?F 


- ^ '•  '*'  ""'  ' * ■ ^ 1 

iqV*  , ^^sinfiCj  'ifv^  iwoxrt^  sf  tXe^  otf 

u>^^&ttlhc'if  sy“0li>j'u/o(f  a>  Xf:a  f'le.'fi?'  {■? r-Qftfc  J‘trj6'rj»»'e 

’ , tot &f%tmiflS  i , ^v*iT^  *‘‘"-'^^0^,  XTi<o^  oir  W^ 

ai/t-e.il*r*.i  *^1:^  ll'iff  a oi  .^lodil  Srtif  io  osAin^ajI  BixitfeBa  ^ 

.»-‘C?y?i0fa  r.^c  eTj^^ijpfc 


^tv^r.  ifout^  4ito:if  o«  ; ./-^v 


% 


% • 


. . . <r.ffM>t  6Si 


'■<i 


's-^o^rto  fiji<.-  •_>»  nqi^  fX:>«,'x.”  tin;f  H:aXaA  . 

«“*•'•"*  •“-««'■  ’’  t*  (.»(*««?  ■:f^.o»xi  xitotTt,  m{4  to ■ 

-A^xifv  oi  1:  .'aLi9J '^  in%  -rotto-rVeiJjr  ^^4-1 

pr'^  If.  0i«nij  :i4a£  '-..  V-.^ 


0»l£y^l  ,-5-aU 


• 


inf  oi-j  ; 


L ^0  5efvax  •:<?  s,4^.,  ,.Va  vt/oi  C4  J?c'^*X-^o*ri}i|4»  1^1 


5 ’^o  »0Qe.  jfcrvl't  f j *r  jf»X;jtr.%f>tv  su*fO:  i f 


to  : 

f--.  r»M.»^  ii»  I '1'. , 


t'lL 


. *^v.  vi ».  ..  uutk^ i^r,.^  ^ ij, ' r^»r«--  arfj 

^ '■’*  *'*"'•  M .c^JlW 

-3.tfi ni»S  ‘ ’sa  T»V0  *B«»irrfq 

• I®., 


oiHT^’  . 


fi ! * f • •*■ 


“ «rf.t  ^ 4/%X«?  4toi<y  , o».^oa  I'd 


■'»v‘  ' - 'J  ■ • 

idte-tJfn  n'cU-pr-w.i.c.*’-  :.<a  .*ra.Bxa|3  «;-y  i vto*?  XXiV  ©o'4fq 


^ rt'^  I '"  - S , ‘ 

, BSai  __  :/■? 

““  fifia  f^  biftl'^x  Bi 

""  ,41j 


3T- 


6i^«,  nyd-x^  ‘^^C.  **.*Kt^»  f*?aXad.X<Hid^^  * '’^ipaot^OTg  A 

li|»C(fi>T  -‘■4  i"<Ji:l34-4»,c OJ 

0 ft  ■ , ’ 

T/i4r>Ji*i^c..jb-v4tcf53X  ,‘Si^'Torvt^ff  .- 


CO 


— — -■<h  '■■»f»-M 

, V *'r  ,'n 


16 


selected  passages  from  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  Journals  (V) 
written  when  Emerson  was  eighteen,  and  from  his  Journal  xxxvi , 
written  in  I845.  when  he  was  forty-one  years  old.  ^he  surprising 
feature  in  the  comparison  is  that  one  of  such  youth  should  he  cable 
to  express  ideas  vhich  are  seen  to  he  so  little  changed  in  essence 
nearly  fifty  years  later.  Emerson  says,  in  Journal  V:  "The  in- 
visible connections  between  heaven  and  earth,  the  solitary  prin- 
ciple which  unites  intellectual  beings  to  an  account  and  makes  of 
men  moral  beings  religion — is  distinct  and  peculiar,  alike  in  its 
origin  and  in  its  end,  from  all  other  relations.  It  is  essential 
to  the  ^^niverse.  You  seek  in  vain  to  contemplate  the  order  of 
things  apart  from  its  existence.  You  can  no  more  banish  this  than 
you  can  separate  from  yourself  the  notions  of  Space  and  Ihiration. 

" En c omp a s s i n g Through  all  the  perverse  mazes  and  shadows 

i^resence  01  .Deity" 

of  infidelity  the  Light  still  makes  itself 
visible,  until  the  reluctant  mind  shudders  to  acknowledge  the 
eternal  encompassing  presence  of  ^eity.  If  you  can  abstract  it 
from  the  Universe,  the  Soul  is  bewildered  by  a system  of  things  of 
which  no  account  dan  be  given;  instances  of  tremendous  power--and 
no  hand  found  to  form  them;  a thousand  creations  in  a thousand 
soheres  all  pointing  upward  to  a single  point— and  no  object  there 
to  see  and  receive  it  is  all  a vast  anomaly.  Restore  Religion  and 
you  give  to  those  energies  a sublime  object." 

Eveafyone  knows  of  Emerson’s  inability  to  allow  himself  to 
be  led  by  the  blind  formalism  of  the  times;  and  his  remarks  in 
Journal  xxxvi,  below,  definitely  show  what  he  thought  of  this 
matter,  which  was  always  of  the  highest  importance  to  him: 


i 


’’  • - ‘ J '‘  •:  ‘i  i ■ ^tXVf  *i:,7  . •■'ll'?  J •■' ‘ Off  J^4>f 

• t 'I'l."’*'  i>  , 'U>  ^ ~ -'J’i’vt*,' 


'■ 

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^ ”■  - :'  ■ '•'■'  ••'  "•  ■ r ;.:;i  : ;.ii  c<< 

“"i  “ !•■•;•-•.' li.' c I I'.,  .;'■.  <•  :, 't ...  ./t;' 1/  ^f■|'lo^ 

*'■'■•'■'•  ' ^ .1.^  o"  * -■  *■  -i!  ;.:  QOtr 

• ' ' ■ . 1 'lofm  rr.'i  li-t  ' " 'V  ti^ 

■ 'VC  ./  ‘/.•■•  l ■.(/.■  ji  •v./r  -—J  .'»-;r*V.4 

• '■'■  ..-.w  f f '■ ' : ■ .*  <*•  *•  ! • r • u-t ; .1  w . •..,;  £ ,>(;■ 

) ' J • ' <5  Ml  •*•  .•;•■?.  ^ * ••X3BP-  ;';u 

• '■"  '■  •'  ■'  ••  j S'-  . : ,- 

...  1 1 - , . 


17 


Dislike  of  "Vestiges  of  Creation.  What  is  so  ungodly  as  these 
ii^ormalism 

polite  bows  to  God  in  English  books’  He  is  always 
mentioned  in  the  most  respectful  and  deprecatory  manner,  "that 
august,"  "that  almighty,"  "that  adorable  providence,"  etc.,  etc. 

But  courage  only  will  the  Spirit  prompt  or  accept.  Everything  in 
this  Vestiges  of  Creation  is  good,  except  the  theology,  which  is 
civil,  timid,  and  dull.  These  things  which  the  author  so  well 
collates  ought  to  be  known  only  to  fev/,  and  those,  masters  and 
poets ." 

One  who  knows  Emerson  would  not  be  led  to  think  that  he  is 

sacrilegious,  or  even  irreligious;  and  certainly  no  doubt  at  all 

remains  after  reading  what  he  has  to  say  regarding  worship,  some 

Worship  Is  few  pages  further  in  the  same  Journal  referred  to 

EssentialT" 

in  connection  with  the  passage  quoted  ,1ust  above: 
"Worship  is  the  height  of  rectitude,  "The  world  is  no  place  for 
the  man  who  doth  not  worship,  and  where,  0 Ar.ioonl  is  there  another*?  ' 
Worship,  because  the  s ailor  and  the  ship  and  the  sea  are  of  one 
stuff;  worship,  because,  though  the  bases  of  things  are  divided, 
yet  the  summits  are  united;  because  not  by  thy  private,  but  by 
they  public  and  universal  force  canst  thou  share  and  so  know  the 
nature  of  things.  Worship,  because  that  is  the  difference  between 
genius  and  talent;  between  poetry  and  prose;  between  Imagination 
and  Fancy.  The  poet  is  like 

the  vaulters  in  the  circus  round 

Who  step  froii  horse  to  horse,  but  never  touch  the 
ground." 

Turning  now  from  the  broad  generalities  of  religion,  which 
after  all  is  in  the  abstract,  what  did  Emerson  think  of  the 


vx 


Jnf  -» a®ti?22V'  ■ ,^ 

•*  * ?»<<••■»  rfo'A,**  i5j..l»g*  ,.,iXc.-  ^ 


. .t-■^«  -‘'  - . •»  , 1. „ ..  ,-  .« 


. .‘g^  .ttX  /ri«  ^i„o 


atvrvri  ‘.ft-i/C*:  v.,:ui  i>  *.  , llv-Zo\.l 

ts; 


r» 


M 

-»• 


Mjkf 


^ySi  cut  i't.!  <••  (.;  Nj>x  g»«s  ,0«a  orfy^  0{jC'  ' ‘ 


t *?  i^4k  X(fi{(jp  tifi  >''<^u•’•  iik’*  'It  ■ 1 • f - 

c.,:u 

fcilTf  X ^ ftXjL-*^  m,  -.  « I • - „ . _ . ' 7 


«ac5  *fyk-  -j  -;  .f«f.  >,  . „.,  ,j  ^ 


Cr  !»r,'T*j^‘V.*i.  f.,rTRl, 


l.lh  mt  -Ort^  ijttiisi^p^i 
l^iir  4dt*  . ' -'I 


T.  : C0^«.  on  w.  Mv»  ^ . ..-.gHl..-,  U ,.-...  ,,rf  X,  «1 


* 0A<t'  , i/  * ; • . I ■'i*»|  • ,,.j  ft  /I  k / » 1 » i ® 

. ,'j.iisiv  V i -(I 

Xcad'j*  .;  .1  o *’/i,*  !>4Xj^  I t |A  --ifi  M b '-  ^ 

...eSiTtfc  9*ia  5?»,rurri  ly/*.  e .J'wii«>^r  .qMr^w  ft*tifd4i 

■?  ,*  *'i-%<I  r.,^  i,r.2»^.  n«,j 

W <.,  tb,  «^.  a. t,«no 

> iW.iJ-4r.h.<'*t  tmbfto:.  ; „r-_  ;'.nh  <..,.to„  .,.  . *«rf  .,  . ■ 

II  . . t.ioi,,,.  , ,.,j*,f  . f_,  »sii!t9x 

b;  /tioq’ 


SLi.’ 

BHk' 


i-i,  „,.  . ' JiiC-  m'  si.a  rXa^v  ■»,  .. 

.‘VI ..  aa-,«&  ,u.i  «ort  s«;;  iw’ 


tit  l ...  iWVnJs  *r.ft 


18 

practical  phase  of  the  same  sub.lect-matter?  How  apply  it  t o the 

Ideas  Concerning  problems  of  life?  V\fhat  is  the  meaning  of 
Man  * s ilif  e 

character?  Hear  Emerson  (Journal  xxxvi): 

"We  do  not  live  an  equal  life,  but  on  of  contrtcsts  and  patchwork; 
now  a little  joy,  then  a sorrow,  now  a sin,  then  a generous  or 
brave  action.  We  must  always  be  little  whilst  we  have  these 
alternations.  Character  is  regular  and  homogeneous.  Our  world, 
it  is  true,  is  like  us;  it  has  many  weathers,  here  a shade  and 
there  a rainbow;  here  gravel  and  there  a diamond;  polar  ice,  then 
temperate  zone,  then  torrid;  now  a genius,  then  a good  many  medi- 
ocre people. 

"Alas’,  bur  Penetration  increases  as  we  grow  older,  and  we 
are  no  longer  deceived  by  great  words  when  unrealized  and  un- 
embodied.  Say  rather,  we  detect  littleness  in  expressions  and 
thoughts  that  once  we  should  have  taken  and  cited  as  proofs  of 
strength." 

And  this:  "....I  am  forced  to  remember  the  clock,  and  regret 

Eternity  and  how  much  time  is  passing,  and  if  I suend  any  hour 

Tjime 

upon  any  history  of  facts,  -I  think  on  this  loss; 
but  if  you  bring  me  a thought;  if  you  bring  me  a law;  if  I con- 
template an  idea,  I no  longer  count  the  hours.  This  is  of  the 
iilternity  which  is  the  generator  of  Time." 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  keynote  of  Emerson's  idea  of  the 
relationship  of  man-lif e-God , as  expressed  in  the  Journals,  is 
struck  in  the  following  passage,  also  chosen  from  the  Journal  he 
kept  inl845;  "Life  is  a game  between  God  and  man.  The  one  dis- 
parts himself  and  feigns  to  divide  into  individuals.  He  puts 


Ji/Km 


iuf  j i OM  i£Jt.'r~..ro^r,Dn  r-.-w;  o1  'c  a.ria 

I'o  "Jij f; i r* ij vfi7  orT.t  tii  j.i/i.'i  Yo^xX  BJTtf Xocitj 
: ■ 'rxxx.  n'3'teK-l  'Xiioli  Viej-otiiiin'o- 

, G >vrf  X J’ii-  . G*x-'i*ncc  Pfi  id  ^i/oo  i\  .-^vfX  '•  r;  c t • ft* 


fi.tnaor'oO  iinM 

"rr: 


19 


Beauty  Not 
Alie"n"“to'  Us 


part  in  a pomegranate,  part  in  a king’s  crown, 
part  in  a person.  Instantly  man  sees  the  heau- 


"tiful  things  and  goes  to  procure  them.  As  he  takes  down  each  one 
the  1*0 rd  smiles  and  says, "It  is  yourself;  and  when  he  has  them  sill, 
it  will  he  yourself . We  live  and  die  for  a beauty  which  v/e  wronged 
ourselves  in  thinking  alien." 

Returning  to  selections  from  the  Journals  which  refer  more 
directly  to  the  subject  matter  of  this  paper — the  consideration 
of  Emerson’s  literary  procedure  — I refer  again  to  the  example 
Quoted  showing  his  facility  in  turning  from  mere  remark  of  a 
critical  nature  upon  something  he  has  heard  or  read,  to  the  devel- 
opment of  an  idea  of  his  own.  We  saw  there  how  he  drifted  from 
remarks  on  the  Edinburgh  Review  to  "The  good  in  life  that  seems 
to  be  most  REAL,  is  not  found  in  reading,  but  in  those  successive 
triumphs  a man  achieves  over  habits  of  moral  or  intellectual  in- 
dolence, or  over  an  ungenerous  Spirit  and  mean  propensities." 

The  foregoing  passage  is  amply  illustrative  of  Emerson’s 
discursive  faculty;  but  passages  such  as  the  above  were  by  no 
means  the  only  sort  he  put  in  his  Journals.  V/hen  he  found  a new 


future  time.  A striking  example  of  this  habit  of  his  to  use  his 
"musical  eyes"  as  he  once  referred  to  his  ability  to  perceive  the 
poetic  word,  is  contained  in  Journal  I,  where  he  wrote,  in  Jan - 
uary,l820,  the  follovdng  list;  "For  use — phrases  poetical, -- 
rescuing  and  crowning  virtue,  "oldest  complexion  of  age."  ill- 
conditioned,  cameleion.  zeal,  booked  in  alphabet,  cushioned,  com- 


"For  Use — 
Phrases  Roeti cal 


word  which  attracted  him,  or  a poetic  phrase, 
he  carefully  noted  it  down  for  use  at  some 


f ,f. 


, M-‘  .'((■;'■  Jj'-  ,s,  V;1  'Vti  ■ i;l 

■ ':n  ' r.  Ti  sj>'  t-,;*"  fi.'f  f>.* 


;vvf<: 


; r 


. ' ’nr 


J ’ . •..<1  * 


( tiS4  * i'  f>  f r ri 't  ,« 


1,1  • i.  mT  f*-*4r  3 ^ T * 


' * **'  ^ t ‘ <■>*-  ,f' 

I ‘:r  s ' 


i(:. 


f A.;' 

• /-J 


'•  V,  , v^-itA  r,  i r :'  •?"  n i '•'’  3 f;>  •,.■  .1^ 


.7 


‘•'i-’  ‘V  >^X^P‘.’T'Ui  ■ ;••'  / r.u' 

« ,r.^'  / . ' ■ •■  • 


Irr::- ^ 3r  7*  ■'• 


.'  o'- '^• 

■ 7 » 

i.'\ 


■•  ’ ■ ' A&- 

, r 


At' 


" .v! 


■■  v:'-. 


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.*•*  4'  ' ■ ’ , . 


\f  sd 


‘s-  ^ K t i 


‘K*' 


' ’.  ''i 


;r> 


- -4,*-- 


\:ir^  T>.V,1 

• ■ ’ ? 


;v  1 •*''•• 


Oi  ri.J- 


•'aT 


o . * • ■' 


.^n  '.S'"  f <y'r  ^ 


"' 


■ i'ife  ’5_ri‘ 


■ ■ •■'  , •‘X'  ■ . ■•  , 


iri'^  ofU  n.7A.'fyfn  \ 


- - .-:  *-  -.fJ  • 


• r .•  T, 


■■  -r.f  - r 

\ -’  ■ r 

y.:Sy!£. 

‘ ■’  ‘y- ; 

- ‘ ;4  -0.  •- 

,1  « 

J ' ..’.'I  •-,  •■ 

•; 

t»* , ■■■;>  ;^5: . ■ , ,‘ 1 ^ 

<■  i »• 

;-v:  r/?  ,V  ■ 

i '.i. 

! t 

f.'.'Xi-  ■3-77C  -on  :'-7  ■ 

' C^’\*  f -’ 

. •^<  - '• 

G-;’  '•'>?vi5r  _ 

' , .'  . • X . 

.,7  ■ _ ■ 

. -1C,  ■'  ■ 

i''  ■ ' 

> U C , ''p.  -T.O' 


,,  .,  . ' . ./ii  / 

• Of-  7, 7 C ^V/-'.'^^’ 


3 


« ii  ; .V' 


W>  ■ i.  '-• 


iJjJ 


20 


punotion.  beleaguered,  halidom.  galloping,  whortleberry,  spikenard, 
staunch,  council-chamber,  star-crossed,  till  its  dye  was  doubled 
on  the  crimson  cross,  countless  multitudes,  abutments,  panoply, 
sycophant  smile,  kidnapping,  beheaded,  demigods,  signal  ( adjective , ) 
Cleopatra,  ambidexter,  register  (verb.)  defalcation."  Truly,  a 
boy  of  sixteen,  who  sought  out  and  wrote  down  for  safe-keeoing  such 
a variety  of  words  and  phrases  might  be  expected  to  produce  merit- 
orious works  with  a little  maturity. 

But,  before  passing  on  to  a consideration  of  Emerson’s  works, 
we  may  well  ask,  Vtfhence  these  words?  The  answer  is  given  in  those 

Evidences  of  parts  of  the  early  Journals  wherein  Emerson 

Wide  ReaB^ing 


wrote  down  lists  of  books  "to  be  sought".  An 
examination  of  the  following  list,  written  when  he  was  seventeen 
(August  24,  1820)  will  serve  to  show  why  and  how  the  young  Emerson 

t 

found  such  words  as  he  put  down  "for  use":  "V/ordsworth’ s Re  pus  e ; 
Quarterly  Review,  September,  l8l9;  Liber  VTII,  of  Buchanan’s 
Sc ot land--Wallace ; Spenser’s  View  of  the  State  of  Ireland;  Camden’s 
Annals  of  Queen  Elizabeth;  Eennet’s  Life  and  Characters  of  Greek 


Poets ; Hody,  Be  Illustribus  Graecis;  Middleton’s 


« . ^ 
Cicer ; 


Burton’s 


— — - 

Melancholy;  Barrow’s  Sermons;  Hobbes’  Leviathan ; Joinville’s  Life 
of  St.  Louis ; Froissart’s  History  of  glan d ; Chaucer’s  Works; 

Bayle’s  Dictionaire ; Corinne ; Massinger’s  Plays;  Fletcher’s  do; 
Bentley’s  Phalaris ; Peter’s  Letters;  Letters  from  Eastern  States; 
Waver ley;  Cogan  ^ the  Passions ; Sir  Charles  Grandison."  The  fore- 
going is  but  part  of  a long  list  of  books  referred  to  in  his  early 
journals,  but  it  is  needless,  for  our  purposes,  to  extend  it. 


Evidence  enough  has  been  given,  for  the  purposes  of  this 


OSr 


,3 


’.Ti 

/ 


w:,L^ 


4j/^-*Ivix><jfc  h:'  :i^  uif  ♦iiorirt-tz-T#./,-  . ' rvi^ss/^-Iiwonoo  .tfoittfjjts  ‘ 

^’i<3  0i>q.  . ’'  . noafliZ’TO ; orfl  no 

-^.  e»V  Kf  c •! Ci'  1 X^u;. . if>.  },u  . i* rt«,o  . ^plo . oXi  m ^(U^^oo^S 

• <i  *'«/wl:|en  *niHo€^eSO 

dottr,  mrr»f»  t^yi  ^ 

I * * * ' I 

OJ  «E<|  Jrfulr  ViT^Jh^V  ji  ‘ 


%.  > 


. A /<XI:il  «3f-T6W 

’Jr  **  " 

f? 


, rii«v  e’flr  erterXJi  n.  *<  >,' ji^  jun:  i.34Q  diolecf 

otjti  T r*  «aT#*  B:  -if -•♦  fir  I ,iT  Q^£>  ul  XI»w 

oc^YBcrr^  »f..:Tt/,r.  ^f-.e  f/vt  !toJi‘7iq  e#wf.t) ►va. 

. ’'.T4j|ffftjr‘  VUf&O'i  tO  » 

, -«»  »M  rtrji.  . ‘»i.:  •'i;;^c.£Xo?-  «.^>r  la  aoXf«a;^<nax&A 

»-  ;,  jj'Ui.  ^ B/fj  \7ar  h/1^  t.4??  r.T  xxi!T  (OS^r  ,>2iJjp^«A)t 


* : ” >f  ;i 


vh  /Bn  B«i  nihaw  rtnCB  i|>ttn.o> 
a * a.  vlwfa  uifC  't  , ■ : •■  r,  n ! X ; ^ J ai>  ^ 


r ““**”•  '^^l.l-'.Jii*^  dS.  ^ asifi'two-'ii.  svc^Xift-tnaXJoofi 

h.  Ww  n'iBijttJv  ; atpaP  Y^-tf^tuiZ 

c'Cfl»*nf.  ;-;si.in  B’.^..‘fti.;  ,,i,-  ;«-t.a.i-.0  surfj-iJ^jit  ao.>.r:>iotf.  ~ 

e'ollxvf.lc.r^  ; 'S^'OifoR  ;v»ftrr«8  »'voTf«lt  ;^.r«i(9MjoM 

:eixo|i  i«w>natf:;,  iCo ■. . ly^  .<= -.ythaT  vie  ic 

;c.;-  r’fedtjt^v  ;atal?  ;OTiano  (.jtg>a<  ^'jiXz< 

J£2»?is:  fifiS  5?fess  .•5-*'fe.‘»ia  »’T9Ja^  ;aff^x,yi;^^  a‘z»^jtapC'' 
I ~ 1^  '•  2lM  :»c<'  li-»a6  trfi  c'-ito^ :x'vX'^»v 

0»  *«Tfo»o-i  •.JlCH.w.Jv  TSU^I„  >,4-b>.-  J-<.R\8i-5niua 
./■^£i:««^t.  ,st>«H.«.--.(,  140  ie"  ..«v.fRB(>j^!  /■(  iBif^,- .Icnac 

*i.f/  It.  -oWttXVq  »aj  1«ar  .n»xi;i  (Wbd  atiri  t^tuia  4 .••rt#5\-i 


21 


paper,  to  show  the  nature  of  Emerson’s  Journals,  and  to  orore  their 

value  to  him  who  would  understand  the  development  of  Emerson's 

thought;  but  it  i s impraot ioable  to  endeavor  hece  to  trace  some  of 

Understanding  of  the  phases  of  that  development,  as  such  an 
Emerson  thro'ugTT" 

The  Journals  ^ undertaking  would  constitute  a book  larger 

than  the  entire  present  one.  Briefly  summar- 
izing, then,  Emerson’s  Journals  portray  the  activities  of  the  mind 
of  the  man,  from  youth  to  old  age;  his  interests  are  shown  in  them, 
and  strong  hints  of  the  writings  and  lectures  to  come  are  seen  in 
all  numbers  of  the  Journals,  from  the  earliest  to  the  last  written. 

— 0-- 


'itc  f tHy#l|r^ f'h  (Jil  ^k£j|^  Orfr^f  jKfd  OtI;  9ffJSY 

•*  i wt  o»efl  tn,Vi50‘>cu  0,f  'iiltjinqmU.  cf  .-ffxtsx/Qtltf 

. :s  'a-  . 

<ti«  dr.-  M t . . - J' ^r<*  iac«4i|  rsff  t<>  5^6fla£«a4ioftt; 


^ • 1 “ C 0»  rt  ^ i * U>  I if:  9n  t»  $/  U me  rj  fUx^..  li  (i; 


ilHelzr" 


'•iir  1C  V •.J’^vf.roa  »4dr>.  ,\i;*ri-l|^(|  »jr,0'j..r,l  »»rW 

•--  vl’-'ViA#  •T#  dd  '’iifr>T2  'Wt^  ' , rWtT!  ^0 

^s;t-o  ot  1 a'^ai/C  :^jsoija,  i>xtfiiJ 

.rt^r^^fw  -ft  A/  e^*.t  uj  ®rf  .r  01^  . . r^fnaou  tt  ciadpimj  Xi^ 

n 


aS  £.€fJt’ 


ia 

Chapter  III 

Poems  of  the  Inner  Man 

-0- 

" Right  upward  on  the  road  of  fame 

With  sounding  steps  the  poet  came: 

Born  and  nourished  in  miracles, 

His  feet  were  shod  with  golden  bells. 

Or  where  he  stepped  the  soil  did  peal 

As  if  the  dust  were  glass  and  steel," 

--"The  Poet,"  I. 

— 0— 

Emerson  had  the  highest  opinion  of  poetry  and  of  the  place 

of  the  poet  in  life;  and  he  felt  that  poetry  had  an  actual  and 

appreciable  effect  upon  life,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  has 

often  been  declared  by  some  to  be  useless  or  serving  for  amusement 

only.  In  his  Journal  XV,  January  23,  I825,  Emerson  says;  "Poetry, 

wise  women  have  said,  hath  a noble  inutility,  and  is  loved,  as  the 

flowers  of  the  field,  because  not  the  necessaties,  but  the  luxuries 

Emerson^  s Opinion  of  life;  yet  I observe  it  has  sometimes 

Poetry 

deigned  to  mix  in  the  most  important  in- 
fluences that  act  on  society.  The  revolutionary  spirit  in  this 
cold  and  prudential  country,  it  is  said,  was  kept  ^ive  and  ener- 
gized in  17/6  by  the  seasonable  aid  of  patriotic  songs  and  satir- 
ical ballads  pointing  at  well-known  names  and  acts.  Of  Tyrtaeus 
and  his  conquering  elegies  who  has  not  heard?  And  Greek  history 
has  another  more  extraordinary  instance  to  the  purpose,  ^’'hen 
Iiycurgus  meditated  the  introduction  into  Sparta  of  his  unprece- 
dented oolitical  model,  he  prevailed  upon  Thales,  whom  he  met  as 
he  travelled  in  Asia  Minor,  to  pass  to  Laconia  and  compose  poems 
there  of  such  a character  as  to  prepare  the  mind  of  his  country- 


it.-z.'-iitiJk  Mimci  "rfcxitfT.ga3i<jra8Sv>ii.fi.Br^xfc«^ 


jm  ■'  • 

?p  . A 


'W 


|W' 


ill 


tT>! 

fiaK  i-wToi  €iiSJ  Sfn*  mi»oT 


I” 


SJ  H acftiil  lo  iXdCT  fufi  flO  «fk4uia*’ 

jrif*-JO  loot  ^nf  htfgSa  jf-ti'ff  * 

, -’l/:vyla  ri  ^oAt^uoa 
IXud  ic  V AM"  rifrw 

Xd»<i  ' ;:  si\y\  «u  lb  i’* 

ir<»  h ^k^  t.i'f  TT 

v-rKf” — 


- ^r,^, 


-* 

•XI  laloO  t 


©o^t  ad*  lo  c:Ji  v.i^f’aoQ  doiain^  p>.t^  6ud  flofiacBjS 

l»rii  Cd5t©x>  C4  ftAd  4ii  i&fip  :«-‘Jrl¥w‘J  ipo^' ^di  lo 

Y 

Jv^tj  ••fl'i*  to  Bi  nroO‘JJ  ic-otlii.  0X<liiIc©l^q« 

tn*  ;»£-i3cvc  *tci  r^ofTT-  s -if  ssoXaea  tcf  ^aros  \d  tf^t^otb  wood  oecflo 
: O’”,  •\W  ' X «£rte  V/i - oha  . :, VX  i igtxt  nl  :.tXno^^ 

’J-"' 

%r  *vf  fir^  tvtf.it  ftXdoi  j|  j^er'  .Mrs*  r>?Ad  noraow  pntK. 

r-.’  * ■ -■  • , .,v  ■ ^ 

a#ii4  4cJ'i  ,UJ5jt^Aof9'ion  fdy  c(i/a  t'isj^ood  ,f»X«»X>  «d<X  to  iTawoTi 

!«^j,  U a-rr's^eOf  1 : otXX'Vo 

-ai  4:tu^o«foi  ^af.3-  odT  ji  xia  6oi»ic5 

• li  t tf  \;Tan«- i^i?Xdrri  ©xflf  no  i’ojn  §• 

a ■ . ■ /I 

i -if/'iv  .nw  {/vilii  a4iw  , 0J4JS  ei  ,’^^niioo  f^tiXnoLjfc*xq  b^ve  <^Ioo 

: ' '•  ■ - _ *. 

^ ' ' ‘C 

at  UTiBos  oi3=om’j&q  ,tt>  aXrfaflAaaoc  od^f  dV?X  ni  bo>X‘% 

' ' i‘^  .1  * 

taimja^T^'t  tC  .e^Oii  Jfcaa  ciwoaJt- tX^it  4 a ^ni&nliyzi  aO^II«<f  X«t>i 

^loXaXr^  XfcoiC  boA  ioiT  84*^  tjfli  itaX^alo  grtiie/u  onfo  aid  i>j^- 

A ' -■' " ' j 

noit"  .ofcuf^dC  8i< ' o J 'jrnj5^©d!  <TisaiAi04i^J:e  o*tOitr  ladiofW  ba^I 

^ - ■.  f A ' 

I id  to  o^frl  ao  oii4“  'JdiiooYj 

" ' -I 

fie.  Me  ort  tn^dw  c<^o  iuIiATv-tq  ad  t^ipidiXcrO  toido 

* . " 

soiooq  ofiof'i^oo  bn^  iainoofij  ^ *tt«q  oif.  ou*' --jiiivi.  ai  boXJToYw’ii  0 

'■  - * ’i  - ' 

-?,\fmsc/o  fiM  to  doX«  od  T^-^oaiiid©  « (Lorn  to  lodJ^^ 


-S't—Siws^ 


J.JlJMWUlilg 


* I A A 


23 


men  for  the  novel  schemes  of  the  Reformer." 

How  men  are  influenced  by  poetry,  and  what  the  place  of  the 
poet  is  in  the  world  of  workaday  people,  Emerson  tells  us  in  his 
essay  on  "The  -2oet,"  wherein  he  says:  "But  the  highest  minds  of  the 
world  have  never  cdased  to  explore  the  double  meaning,  or,  shall  I 
say,  the  quadruple,  or  the  centuple,  or  much  morer manifold  meaning, 
of  every  sensuous  fact:  Orpheus,  Empedocles,  Heraclitus,  Plato, 
Plutarch,  Dante,  Swedenborg,  and  the  masters  of  sculpture,  picture 
and  poetry.  For  we  are  not  pans  and  barrows,  nor  even  porters  of 
the  fire  and  torch-bearers,  but  children  of  the  fire,  made  of  it, 
and  only  the  same  divinity  transmuted,  and  at  two  or  three  removes, 
when  we  know  least  about  it.  And  this  hidden  truth,  that  the 
fountains  whence  all  this  river  of  Time,  and  its  creatures,  flows, 
are  intrinsically  ideal  and  beautiful,  draws  us  on  to  the  consider- 
ation of  the  nature  and  functions  of  the  Hoet,  or  the  man  of  Beauty, 
to  the  means  and  materials  he  used,  and  to  the  general  aspect  of 
his  art  in  the  present  time. 

/The  breadth  of  the  problem  is  great,  for  the  poet  is  represen 
tative.  He  stands  among  partial  men  for  the  complete  man,  and 
apprises  us  not  of  his  wealth,  but  of  the  common-wealth.  The  young 

the  Poet  man  reveres  men  of  genius,  because,  to  speak 

Doe's  for  Hs 

truly,  they  are  more  himself  than  he  is.  They 
receive  of  the  soul  as  he  also  receives,  but  they  more.  Nature 
enhances  her  beauty,  to  the  eye  of  loving  men,  from  their  belief 
that  the  poet  is  beholding  her  shows  at  the  same  time.  He  is 
isolated  among  his  contemporaries,  by  truth  and  by  his  art,  but 
with  this  consolation  in  his  pursuits,  that  they  will  draw  all  men 


Ki"  I f ^ ^ ^ of  9 1 ^ ' ' 

:-r.  -;’  • ‘-jn^irf  cl.  ji'ii”  ; .■.'••*;r.r 

t r -'■  r nXl 

t.  ’ i * 

f ' * 1 • 

i ' “t  ■ ' . ■ ' 


^ i ‘ -'it':  tyjBf  -■  . ., 

' “ “r  ' -.r’JSjiiJp  , 

: ' “'.  fOWf'Rei;  yn  r • c 1 


- ■' 

' 

{b  - ' , 

1 -. . X'  A 0*  ’'ii* 

- 

/jtiiui.  »■  .v  ‘r:r 

i.*  ''uS  'p 

,’  - 0 1. . : 

»<  . ■ -^■;  '.'  60/ 

^ 

' 3.-  T ^ t nXifiT  i'  r;iTi /vTAtuol'-'j 

' o*T A '■ 

'■  :»t  ,•  '*  ■ .-*1  e*ji.. ..««  '.if:  rrr  ‘ A 


1 


. •TO  0;:' 

;■  ? i.-'rji  , <>■»■»  o .'V 

• ''  r-.  , .■ . '.aiY' ->  .'  • iicnf. 


J - ■;  . • ,'n’  “t'  I C9 


24 

sooner  or  later.  For  all  men  live  by  truth,  and  stand  in  need  of 
exoression.  In  love,  in  art,  in  avarice,  in  politics,  in  labour, 
in  games,  we  study  to  utter  our  painful  secret.  The  man  is  only 
half  himself,  the  other  half  is  his  expression." 

Truly,  a large  task  is  outlined  for  the  poet  by  Emerson;  his 
duty,  his  place  in  the  world,  is  high;  but  how  is  he  to  achieve  it? 
The  poet’s  work  is  one  of  the  commonest,  and  at  the  same  time  most 
difficult,  expressions  of  art.  The  thing  to  learn  then,  so  far  as 
the  poet  is  concerned,  is  his  expression  of  art,  Emerson  would 
The  Poet  and  Hjs  have  us  know  that  the  poet,  by  properly 

making  use  of  his  art,  can  create  and  enhance 


Methods 


beauty  for  us,  can  make  the  common  man  see  the  nobler  things  in  life, 
can  inspire  him  to  great  deeds,  can  incite  or  sp^ed  revolutions. 

What  should  art  be,  or  do?  Should  it  be  photographic,  and  record 
in  imperishable  stone  or  the  master’s  canvas  the  colors  of  a sunset 
which  delighted  us,  or  a form  we  cherish  in  imagination?  Should  it 
imprison  in  the  sculptured  marble,  either  real  or  that  of  ohrases, 
the  fleeting  expression  we  fain  would  keep?  Emerson  does  not  think 
so;  indeed,  in  his  essay  on  "Art,"  he  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that 
art  must  be  new,  original:  "Thus  in  our  fine  arts,  not  imitation. 
Create , nojt  but  creation  is  the  aim.  In  landscapes,  the 

painter  should  give  the  suggestion  of  a fairer 


Tmi  ta't  e' 


creation  than  we  know.  The  details,  the  prose  of  nature,  he  should 
omit,  and  give  us  only  the  spirit  and  splendour."  That  the  artist, 
or  poet,  may  not  fail  in  his  mission,  he  is  warned  by  Emerson,  in 
the  same  essay,  "But  the  artist  must  employ  the  symbols  in  use  in 
his  day  and  nation  to  convey  his  enlarged  sense  to  his  fellow-men. 


; • r • ir'.--v=5r;^ 


; jrjYi  r 


'■<  . 


iS'l--  >i. 


' 0 a> 

i :. 


1-^ 


> -1  i 


’’  ^lij 


^ ,-v 


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fi. 


[V-.v*t 


jp.;  ' :V 


;a'- 


-’’ijrr.;.  .V. 


r ' ■ 


■ , a' , 

■■' 'OSX‘ . _ J-'  ^a/jc!  -“‘rfi?'; 


r:li2  fif?it.  isos 

“wr 


j ' 

•f 


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-.-■'l:.1  :r^:  , 4 


■ ,?0  'j'O^  •-;"£^..C{a 

OTigr-  \?-,  , v;. 

'i- 


-c  -.:  ;).fu.:(fe’c  ycr*...  . 

; . . ' ' ,iv_|  < S;V;'j 


: 'd-  i 


■•■•  -■  ■'"  • ••*•<' ;.'<■  ':ri 

■ V ■ - ■ I •'  I .!  Si  ffi-;  ' i ^ '■  ■'  • -'■  I . ; '•  -,  '• 

•• ' ’(  ’*  I ■ • if  ».•  - ..  . ^ - -~r 

-■  ' -*  ^ ..<...  ......  , , . ■ , 


,.-r  ,;■  I ■ 


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pi 


'l.^  .•  *t 


i r.Lti' ujn 


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V.^.^ 
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i 


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■J  • .-rf  :e.  - r ; ;..  . ^ .. 

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wt;  .17 

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•Itf  os:  ..,  ; ■:•  a;^v.^U'v  :^jrj 


r-t 

r 

.*•  i ft  .. 


<^5 

Thus  the  new  in  art  is  always  formed  out  of  the  old.  The  Genius  of 
the  ^our  always  sets  his  ineffaceable  seal  on  the  work,  and  gives 
it  an  inexpressible  charm  for  the  imagination." 

What  Emerson  thought  of  the  poet  in  general,  and  of  poetry 
in  the  abstract,  he  thought  of  his  own.  -i^ostulated  theories  became 
his  methods,  as  is  well  shown  in  his  poetical  writings.  As  nearly 
as  man  could,  he  followed  out  the  plan  laid  down. 

Truly  we  should  expect  to  get  from  a man  who  regarded  poetry 

as  capable  of  political  influence,  compositions  which  showed  this 

belief.  But  it  is  not  ^ one  in  his  belief  in  the  vital  force  of 

poetry  in  regard  to  external  things  and  such  events  as  revolutions, 

that  Emerson* s opinion  of  poetry  may  be  found.  He  did  regard  this 

Muse  as  capable  of  wielding  a powerful  influence  in  that  way,  but 

he  felt  that  the  real  strength  and  purpose  of  poetry  was  found 

elsewhere;  and  that  the  poet  must  seek  for  his  inspiration  in  other 

places  than  the  conflicts  between  nations,  if  his  verse  were  to  ring 

true  and  nobl6 . He  says;  "Boetry  had  better  drink  at  immortal 

fountains."  {Journal  XV.  January  4»  1825.)  Previous  to  this  time. 

Poetry  Derived  Emerson  had  written  in  his  J-ournal  V, 

Prom  immortal 

Pountains  of  ^^ature  January  12,  1822  , his  belief  that  poetry 

is  derived  from  i'lature --that  Hature  which 
is  always  so  intimate  a part  of  EnBrson  himself--and  that  "its  images 
are  nothing  but  the  striking  occurrences  selected  from  Nature  and 

Art  and  clothed  in  an  artful  combination  of  sounds But  poetical 

expression  constitutes  to  half  the  world  the  beauty  of  poetry,  and 
in  this  it  seems  to  resemble  Algebra,  for  both  make  language  an  in- 
strument  and  depend  solely  upon  it  without  having  any  abstracted 
use."  Of  course  it  would  be  possible  for  a writer  working  with 


» •« , . J . 


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- ^ ■ ■■  'S  ■■.'•■•'.  ._'»..■  - , V ., 

'•  . I ^•  ' , ^ r ^ . " ■ ' 

• 7'  -.'i' ^ <x&iy  * ' t-; '■ 


T-'t? 


if 


a6 

tenet  in  mind,  to  say  things  that  had  little  or  no  meaning;  to  write 
in  beautiful  language  poems  whose  beauty  was  on  the  surface  only; 
but  Emerson  felt  that  mere  verbal  ornamentation  of  thoughts  v/hich 
in  themselves  are  of  little  value,  was  not  the  sort  of  poetry  which 
makes  its  strongest  appeal  to  him  who  is  searching  for  a higher 
criticism  of  life.  In  exposition  of  this  view,  he  writes;  "Poeti- 
cal expression  serves  to  embellish  dull  thoughts,  but  we  love 
better  to  follow  the  poet,  when  the  muse  is  so  ethereal  and  the 
thought  so  sublime  that  language  sinks  beneath  it."  (Journal  V, 
January  12,  1822  .) 

When  this  muse  is  so  ethereal  and  the  thought  of  such  sub- 
limity, then,  Emerson  believes,  the  poet  probably  attains  to  his 

Mankind  in  ?03,1,  which  is  putting  mankind  in  har- 

harmony  wTth  i^ature 

mony  with  i'iature , with  God.  In  a letter 
to  his  aunt,  dated  ^une  I5,  1826,  the  young  poet  wrote;  "It  would 
seem  there  was  some  kindred  between  this  new  philosophy  of  poetry 
and  the  undisciplined  enterprises  of  intellect  in  the  middle  age. 

The  geniuses  of  that  era,  all  on  fire  with  that  curiosity  which  is, 
in  every  age,  inextinguishable,  to  break  the  marble  silence  of 
Nature  and  open  some  intercourse  between  man  and  that  divinity  with 
which  it  seems  instinct,  struggled  to  grasp  the  principles  of  things 
to  extort  from  the  spheres  in  the  firmament  some  intrmations  of 
the  present  or  some  commentary  on  the  past.  They  were  impatient 
of  their  straitened  dominion  over  nature,  and  were  ea^er  to 


explore  the  secrets  of  her  own  laboratory,  that  they  might  refine 
clay  and  iron  into  gold,  might  lengthen  life  and  deduce  formulas 
Poets  Always  for  the  solution  of  all  those  mysteries  that 


.’-IT 


; ' :‘  i^Wen*  <*a  61; >>.?;'’ r>|yj ' i‘ • --;i, »' 

' , ; ■.  - 'L  I 

» ( ' / , 


^'i  A A ..\.  'j 


//  V • / r*  .,  'J  c ' ' 

‘:i  ,”  h>35r 


iu.i  j - V 


* . ^ 

^ u- 


*"■  -‘-  ' ^ -■••!  u;.  fi-';,-  ; 


*■  ‘ 


I 


• . . I‘ 


cv  ■ 


■’.*  ■'  r ^ o'" 


"L  ■'  i ^''r.i;f/',fl; 


S:->,if.S/  '1 

, P 

•;  u"t^ ; .-*  :>  ^ l<!(^  ..r  'j  y 'p 


'■ 


/ -V 


" *•,:••.  :a4T 


v.s 


‘ T’"  • raf\-  Jr  *^-'.-  ;., 


1 •' 

• * r ■*  f,  *«  • 

<;  1 


; ■:  ■ J "7/^- --fir',  { ^ , 

i I \.  \^:,  ,'i-rj  'in  ''  j I 

Xa  . '•■  'j 


1 

• . '-  •vf.'  ;'ti<C- 


I 


.Jl 


• ;w  v4ca/^.^ 


<«■  t. 


’ ' n . f.^y  • - .>f 

* ; V 

V ; -V  fi’r  V :’;  .'6.; 


, t i^'  'r»i 

j . 

) 


• ^.  f*.'  -r  f ' /V 


■*‘  r. !''■:/.■< 


\ ' ‘ .»  ' 


’9^ 


'f 


^;i  It"  ' * .. 


' • V ; 


r«r»y  re."'*' 


'■ 

':  f-i  r -•'  (/ 1 <5cj^ 


* l*¥  '■ 


r/  v> 


- jrrvA'-Jft'r;-*  '^tf.i  ;>; 


■'.C' 


■it 


VTt ...-  ■ 


27 

besiege  the  human  adventurer.  Not  otherwise  this  modem  poet,  by 
natural  humour  an  ardent  lover  of  all  the  enchantments  of  wood  and 
river  and  seduced  by  an  overweening  confidence  in  the  force  of  his 
own  genius,  has  discarded  that  modesty  under  whose  influence  aL 1 
his  great  precursors  have  resorted  to  external  nature  sparingly 
for  illustration  and  ornament,  and  have  forborne  to  tamper  with 
the  secret  and  metaphysical  nature  of  what  they  borrowed." 

It  may  seem  a little  odd  that  a ooet  should  be  thus  likened 
to  the  alchemists  in  search  of  the  philosophe r’ s stone;  but  after 
ail,  the  poet  probes  the  realm  of  mind  in  as  analytical  a manner, 
if  he  writes  as  Emerson  often  does,  as  ever  did  one  of  the  magicians 
of  the  middle  ages  seek  in  his  crucible  for  the  transmutable  metal. 

How,  then,  if  one  is  to  "break  the  marble  silence  of  E'ature" 

and  "extort  from  the  spheres  in  the  firmament  some  intimations  of 

the  present  or  some  commentar;';'  on  the  past"  shall  the  poet  work? 

What  must  be  the  qualifications  of  the  man  who  has  this  huge  task 

Genius  Required  before  him?  "It  would  seem,"  Emerson  says 

B^or  HoeTfy 

in  this  same  letter  to  his  confidante, 

"that  the  genuine  bard  must  be  one  in  whom  the  extremes  of  human 
genius  meet;  that  his  judgment  must  be  as  exact  and  level  with  life 
as  his  imagination  is  discursive  and  incalculable.  It  would  seem 
as  if  abundant  erudition,  foreign  travel,  and  gymnastic  exercises 
must  be  annexed  to  his  awiful  imagination  and  fervent  piety  to 
finish  Milton ; that  the  boisterous  childhood,  care-£^gg  oriticism 

and  poetry,  the  association  of  vulgar  and  unclean  companions,  were 
necessary  to  balance  the  towering  spirit  of  Shakespeare,  and  that 
Mr.  Wordsworth  has  failed  of  pleasing  by  being  too  much  a poet . " 


^ ■ ■ . . - ' ' - ' ^ ^ ’'*^1 ® 


' (^- 1 


I !*rg  V,|ri  .■>4- ■»,;! 

fc - ,k  : ; ' • ■ . ' ‘ ^'' ■ ''■■•"*" 


28 


The  poet  has  difficulties  in  going  direct  to  Nature  to  draw 

"Go  to  Nature  his  inspiration;  that  marble  silence  is  often 

For  fFe  ^our'ce" 

Sphinx-like;  yet  the  poet  is  ad  .lured  not  to 
give  to  the  world  "The  fancies  found  in  books,"  in  "V/aldeinsamkeit 
a poem  which  sets  forth  clearly  the  principles  quoted  above: 

WALDEINSMIKEIT 


I do  not  (Jount  the  hours  I spend 
In  wandering  b.y  the  sea; 

The  forest  is  my  loyal  friend. 

Like  God  it  useth  me. 

In  plains  that  room  for  shadows  make 
Of  skirting  hills  to  lie. 

Bound  in  by  streams  which  give  and  take 
Their  colors  from  the  sky. 

Or  on  the  mountain-crest  sublime. 

Or  down  the  oaken  glade, 

0 what  have  I to  do  with  time? 

For  this  the  day  was  made. 

Cities  of  mortals  woe-begone 
Fantastic  care  derides. 

But  in  the  serious  landscape  lone 
Stern  benefit  abides. 

Sheen  will  tarnish,  honey  clo.y. 

And  merry  is  onl.y  a mask  of  sad. 

But,  sober  on  a fund  of  .loy. 

The  woods  at  heart  are  glad. 

There  the  great  Planter  plants 
Of  fruitful  worlds  the  grain. 

And  with  a million  soells  enchants 
The  souls  that  walk  in  pain. 

Still  on  the  seeds  of  all  he  made 
The  rose  of  beauty  burns; 

Tharough  times  that  wear  and  forms  that  fade. 
Immortal  youth  returns. 

The  black  ducks  mounting  from  the  lake. 

The  pigeon  in  the  pines. 

The  bittern’s  bhom,  a desert  make 
Which  no  false  art  refines. 


29 


Down  in  yon  watery  nook, 

'"here  bearded  mists  divide. 

The  gray  old  gods  whom  Chaos  knew. 

The  sires  of  Mature,  hide. 

Aloft,  in  secret  veins  of  air. 

Blows  the  sweet  breath  of  song, 

0,  few  to  scale  those  uplands  dare. 

Though  they  to  all  belong’. 

See  thou  bring  not  to  field  or  stone 
The  fancies  found  in  books; 

Leave  authors’  eyes,  and  fetch  your  own. 

To  brave  the  landscape's  looks. 

Oblivion  here  they  wisdom  is. 

They  thrift,  the  sleep  of  cares; 

For  a proud  idleness  like  this 
Crowns  all  they  mean  affairs. 

Emerson  would  have  us  understand  that  if  the  ooet  is  to  know 

The  "Eternal  life,  he  must  face  the  Sphinx,  whose  eternal 

Questioning" 

questionings  the  spirit  often  quails  before , 
yet  which  it  must  answer  in  order  to  gain  the  key  to  life’s  estate; 
and  just  as  ’’Waldeinsamkeit”  carried  a note  of  the  writer’s  rev- 
erence in  the  stanza; 

There  the  great  Planter  plants 
Of  fruitful  worlds  the  grain. 

And  with  a million  spells  enchants 
The  souls  that  walk  in  pain 

so,  too,  does  "The  Sphinx"  give  evidence  of  Emerson’s  attitude 


toward  Nature,  the  epitome  of  religious  thought,  the  manifestation 
of  God  everywhere: 


THE  SPHINX 


The  Sphinx  is  drowsy. 

Her  wings  are  fuhled; 

Her  ear  is  heavy. 

She  broofts  on  the  world. 
"Who’ll  tell  me  my  secret. 
The  ages  have  kept?-- 
I awaited  the  seer 

V/hile  they  slumbered  and 


slept ; 


H'  [F 


r--*.  *<■  .V'  . feiilsS® 


:;'*.■  V' 


0 


''  -'m-'  '■’jUB  y 


.rll 


« it" 


,,>f^ii^iiTit  ■"  - 


,iv#*  ■;,  ,j 

:plVt  <14:^^  . '4 

^ _.  _,.v,..  . ,,  ^ , .,•  V ■ . j:  V j&’^  ' j^'/  'V' 

•;  71  fhft  *>  fc?  ‘$%jm  &r^  M w.diif*^ 

■ h ; '><tlri^|S  fir#  /'*»!;, 

J ' r . ' ' .'  !>•  ■'  ,^;3»^^f  ”^V i i»''yir /»*t!*- r^t 


t* 


,‘A  . 

• r 


■j' 


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h g^r  . ;.,  ..  <!  V?  ^ 


'■  - J.I1, 


. • .'/  \ .M^.'i  iL 


50 


"The  fate  of  the  man-ohild. 

The  meaning  of  man; 

Known  fruit  of  the  unknown; 

Daedalian  plan; 

Out  of  sleeping  a waking. 

Out  of  vjaking  a sleep; 

Life  death  overtaking; 

Deep  underneath  deep? 

"Erect  as  a sunbeam, 

Unspringeth  the  palm; 

The  elephant  brov/ses, 

Undaunted  and  calm; 

In  beautiful  motion 

The  thrush  plies  his  wings; 
Kind  leaves  of  his  covert. 

Your  silence  he  sings. 

"The  waves,  unashamed. 

In  difference  sweet. 

Play  glad  with  the  bree-^es. 

Old  playfellows  meet ; 

The  .lo^irneying  atoms. 

Primordial  wholes. 

Firmly  draw,  firmly  drive, 

3y  their  animate  poles. 

"Sea,  earth,  air,  sound,  silence. 
Plant,  quadruped,  bird. 

By  one  music  enchanted. 

One  deity  stirred, — 

Each  othe  other  adorning. 
Accompany  still; 

ITight  veileth  the  morning. 

The  vapor  the  hill. 


"The  babe  by  its  mother 
Lies  bathed  in  .loy; 

Glide  its  hours  uncount ed , 

•^he  sun  is  its  toy; 

Shines  the  peace  of  all  being, 
Without  cloud,  in  its  eyes; 

And  the  sun  of  the  world 
In  soft  miniature  lies. 

"But  man  crouches  and  blushes. 
Absconds  and  conceals; 

He  creepeth  and  peepeth. 

He  palters  and  steals; 

Infirm,  melancholy. 

Jealous  glancing  around. 

-ti-nd  oaf,  an  accomplice, 

He  poisons  the  ground. 


K r 


, ;'  . ■;-,  '■  . '■  ; pX»'  .#  -^ilVfe-4^'  ^KCSf) 

' ” r2  ''A' ,-:  '^^'.  ;V;iv/^#*vo' 

• ■ ' ’ V - ''"  ^ ‘ ^ -i  wfi  w 

■' ' ' ' 4allp  ' '■’  ■ ’ 

^ -'  . : ,^.  ><•>»  \irpj-4^T;'4sg?., 

■ ...  .'rt'-iii  tyr..^4|-.t««^V?.!i^  'i 

, HiU  ■ , & 6f^ ';  1^2)  *»'. ' 

* 

^ •-  ><•  •'  ■* . t *i  t ai^'t  i t f-.^^:’it-  vX^  t % ’ ‘Vv 

t<*'  - '^-  .V'  ' -■  ^^*‘'^  ■''  • 


,t  ■'/;..  > '■' 


p*' 


.1  >,, 


’C  ' '‘■*‘-  ' '■'tw 


-.v;  a'  V, ^.^ 

'■ ' ■■  ■ •■  A ' ■ ai 


, ^sP9B  V .<r. A '.r. , 


I 


ft  f ; ; a'lf.  ■ lilti'iJP.*' 

■ A A;A55jSt3!iS®*S'‘ 3 


M , JB  u 


^■'  I 

*'  t 't.y,K\i 


51 


"Out  spoke  the  great  mother. 
Beholding  his  fear:-- 
At  the  sound  of  her  accents 
Cold  shuddered  the  sohere;-- 
'Who  has  drugged  my  boy’s  cuo? 

'f«ho  has  mixed  my  boy’s  bread? 
Who,  with  sadness  and  madness 
Has  turned  ray  child’s  head?o" 

I heard  a ooet  ansv/er 
Aloud  and  cheerfully, 

"Say  on,  sweet  Sphinx’,  thy  dirges 
Are  pleasant  songs  to  me. 

Deep  love  lieth  under 
Ihese  pictures  of  time; 

They  fade  in  the  light  of 
Their  meaning  sublime. 


"The  fiend  that  man  harries 
Is  love  of  the  Best; 

Yawns  the  pit  of  the  Dragon, 
Lit  by  rays  from  the  Blest. 
The  Lethe  of  Nature 

Can’t  trance  him  again, 

Whose  soul  sees  the  perfect. 
Which  his  eyes  seek  in  vain. 

"To  vision  profoimder, 

Man’s  spirit  must  dive; 

His  aye-rolling  orb 

At  no  goal  will  arrive; 

The  heavens  that  now  draw  him 
With  sv/eetness  untold. 

Once  found, --for  new  heavens 
He  sourneth  the  old. 

"Pride  ruined  the  angels. 

Their  shame  them  restores; 
Lurks  the  ioy  that  is  sweetest 
In  stings  of  remorse, 

Have  I a lover 

Who  is  noble  and  free? 

I would  be  were  nobler 
Ihen  1 0 love  me . 

"Eterne  alternation 

Now  follows,  how  flies; 

And  under  pain,  pleasure, -- 
Under  pleasure,  pain  lies. 
Love  works  at  the  centre. 
Heart-heaving  alway; 

Forth  speed  the  strong  pulses 
To  the  borders  of  day. 


V 


•‘. ■ • 'JWatKf ilfife  V.d%'- 'v  ■' ;' ^ w *'J 

„ '••  ‘ ■ ' i^.  J-.  'a’V'‘ 

* <*  jk  vfe  ^ AA  ;>  ^ . yj  i^'«^  ju«« 


■ ■< 


. ■ ■ >5&4aL:r  . ’"T-ai  XS«i^$k 


r ’:.*•■ 


l:3W>'b  -..'tp  . ,,  ,. 

^ >•¥ ^•'^•4  ? ••  i-(M^'-‘  m<*.  Cjri^i  -.;  ?•  a ■^jaflEf!'*.  ■■  \ ■ 

■ ’^■'t'  ' • • ‘ ‘ *-C'.  . ■*  w •-4i  iw  • ..i  .-iji'  ■ . W '’.H  i 


‘"n 


/>] 


•.25'^  ' 'iu  t >f-  i'i 


w 


<■  1%  ^ ;f.-' ■ ■ ■ ;'',4w--'^-^  • 

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, 'tQB.'  y r ;;ft, 

K:^  \ ...  : ;.• 

i. 


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« 

it-  i 


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'>f,i.*. 'i'-^- ' ' ' ■ ’ " . ^ 

,;V  , . Q ; »s%, : • ■* 


,ti 


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. ' ' ’ ' - -■^rf  j6j4i  ,,ei;^ 


xuvfiW 


32 


"])ull  Sphinx,  keep  they  five  wits; 

They  sight  is  growing  blear; 

Rue,  myrrh  and  coramin  for  the  Sphinx, 

Her  muddy  eyes  to  clear I” 

The  old  Sphinx  bit  her  thick  lip, — 

Said,  "Who  taught  thee  me  to  name? 

I am  thy  spirit,  yoke-fellow. 

Of  think  eye  I am  eyebeam. 

"Thou  art  the  unanswered  question; 

Couldst  see  they  propsr  eye, 

Always  it  asketh,  asketh; 

And  each  answer  is  a lie. 

So  take  they  auest  through  nature. 

It  through  thousand  natures  ply; 

Ask  on,  thou  clothed  eternity; 

Time  is  the  false  reply." 

Uprose  themerry  Sphinx, 

And  crouched  no  more  in  stone; 

She  melted  into  purple  cloud. 

She  silvered  in  the  moon; 

She  spired  into  a yellow  flame; 

She  flowered  in  blossoms  red; 

She  flowed  into  a foaming  wave; 

She  stood  Monadnoc’s  head. 

Thorough  a thousnad  voices 
Spoke  the  universal  dame ; 

"V/ho  telleth  one  of  my  meajaings. 

Is  master  of  all  I am.” 

"The  Sphinx"  is  almost  as  cryptic  a poem  as  "Brahma;"  and 

Emerson,  the  both  are  philosophical.  Emerson  is  distinctly 

Lyric  Foef 

a lyric  poet — a poet  of  individual  lines,  of 
moods,  whims,  a moment’s  caprice;  and  lyrics  and  ohilosophy  may 
seem  somewhat  incongruous,  the  one  requiring  no  sustained  or 
progressive  thought,  the  other  necessitating  the  closest  attention 
to  the  development  of  an  idea.  He  himself  says,  regarding  his 
lyric-philosophy , in  which  unique  combination  he  has  succeeded  by 
sheer  merit,  "What  is  poetry?  It  is  philosophy,  it  is  humour,  it 
is  a chime  of  two  or  three  syllables,  tt  is  a relation  of  thought 
to  things,  or  language  to  thuught.  It  converses  with  all  science 


'■  ;.’j3  > • ’ • " ^■ 


< ?4.<» > > <*^:<J^*’\; < • ;x*^l  ri<f! §M' ■■  5 ' •'A'^  *■  i’ 

, *•  :t^.  lit-..U'Oi4  4i|«  -■  ' '-  ^ «f  . ii*£R  -1 


.V 


f * ■■ -^.^'’^^^  * t '>v^8 ', 

'\-  •'  ' • ‘ -'y^  ,'  ' '*  ■'  1 •■,  ■ " ’ >'  4**l 

^‘■.  , ‘s'  .'■  ’?•  'i^kS^iu^tp.  >., 

^ . * . . « ' f . AIlJ  J > u.  r«^...  . N«  « aT  A J<v  ^1 .>  A 


mv 

■•'A  ■ /'•  ■‘■^ 

'1  VV' %■■'"''' 


33 

and  all  imagination,  with  all  accidents  and  all  objects,  from  the 

"i  ^0  grandest  that  are  accessible  to  the  senses. 

Par  for  fruth” 

and  grander  than  those,  to  the  coarsest  parts 
of  life.  And  I would  go  to  the  farthest  edge  of  the  green  earth 
to  learn  what  it  was  or  was  not.  If  the  spirit  of  him  who  paced 
the  Academe  and  had  this  virtue  in  his  soul,  though  he  feigned  to 
disparage  it  in  his  philosophy,  or  the  laurelled  lovers  of  the 
British  Muse,  harp  in  hand,  sit  on  your  musty  mount,  or  soothe 
their  majesties  by  the  margin  of  your  lakes,  conjure  them,  I 
beseech  you,  to  announce  this  secret  that  the  wit  of  humanity  has 
been  so  long  in  vain  toiling  to  unriddle.”  (Letter  to  Miss  Emerson, 
June  15,  1826.) 

One  of  the  chief  elements  in  Emerson’s  philosophy  is  his 
attitude  toward  love,  as  indicated  above  in  "The  Sphinx"  where  the 
man  replying  to  the  Sphinx  says : 

Have  I a lover 

Who  is  noble  and  free? 

I would  he  were  nobler 
Than  to  love  me. 

and  Emerson  develops  this  idea  in  a number  of  his  poems,  in  greater 
or  less  degree.  Notable  among  these  poems  are  "Erose"  , "Give  -aH 
to  Love",  and  the  tri-partite  poem  "Initial,  Daemonic,  and  Celestial 
Love."  The  latter  is  but  the  lyric  twin  of  his  essay  on  "Love" , 
in  which  the  subject  is  treated  in  almost  exactly  the  same  manner: 
the  two  others,  "Eros"  and  "Give  All  to  Love,"  stand  out  more 
individually  as  poems.  "Eros"  is  short,  and  in  some  respects 
resembles  the  conventionalized  sonnet  or  lyric  on  love: 

EROS 

The  sense  of  the  world  is  short, — 

Long  and  various  the  report, — 


34 

To  lore  and  be  beloved; 

Men  and  gods  have  not  outlearned  it; 

And,  how  oft  soever  they’ve  turned  it, 

Not  to  be  improved. 

This,  however,  hardly  represents  in  a perfectly  fair  manner 

Emerson’s  attitude  toward  love,  which  is  perhaps  best  shown,  with 

The  Love-Note  the  exception  of  the  long  poetical  treatise 

In  His  ?oems 

on  the  three  kinds  of  love,  in  "Give  All  to 
Love,”  which  portrays  Emerson’s  ideas  as  being  mord  than  senti- 
mental, and  his  presentation  more  than  that  of  the  erotic  sonneteer 
of  Elizabethan  days;  there  is,  Emerson  would  have  us  understand, 
a reason  for  the  optative  remark;  "1  would  he  were  nobler  than 
to  love  me” : 

GIVE  ALL  TO  LOVE 

Give  all  to  love; 

Obey  thyvheart ; 

Friends,  kindred,  days, 

Estate,  good-fame. 

Plans,  credit  and  the  Muse, — 

Nothing  refuse . 

!Tis  a brave  master; 

Let  it  have  scope: 

Follow  it  utterly, 

Hope  beyond  hope : 

High  and  more  high 
It  dives  into  noon. 

With  wing  unspent. 

Untold  intent; 

But  it  is  a god. 

Knows  its  own  path 

And  the  outlets  of  the  sky. 

It  was  never  for  the  mean; 

It  requireth  courage  stout. 

Souls  above  doubt. 

Valor  unbending. 

It  will  reward, — 

They  shall  return 
More  than  they  were. 

And  ever  ascending. 


35 


Leave  all  for  love; 

Yet,  hear  me,  yet. 

One  word  more  they  heart  behoved. 

One  pulse  more  of  firm  endeavor, -- 
Keep  thee  to-day. 

To-morrow,  forever. 

Free  as  an  Arab 
Of  thy  beloved. 

Oling  v/ith  life  to  the  maid; 

But  when  the  suprise. 

First  shadow  of  surmise 
Flits  across  her  bosom  young. 

Of  a .1oy  apart  from  thee. 

Free  be  she,  fancy-free; 

IJor  thou  detain  her  vesture’s  hem. 

Nor  the  palest  rose  she  flung 
From  her  summer  diadem. 

Though  thou  loved  her  as  thyself. 

As  a self  of  purer  clay. 

Though  her  parting  dims  the  day. 

Stealing  grace  from  all  alive; 

Heartily  know. 

When  half-gods  go. 

The  gods  arrive. 

The  religious  element  was  alwajrs  prominent  in  Emerson’ s 

poetic  writing;  in  fact,  there  is  in  some  form  a hint  of  his 

philosophy  regarding  theology  in  almost  every  one  of  his  poems. 

Religion  in  He  is  a puritan  in  ancestry  and  training 

Erne  r s on'^s~~Fo  e t r y * 

yet  is  as  unorthodoic  in  practice  and 
philosophy  from  the  point  of  view  of  adherents  of  Puritanism  as 
he  is  from  that  of  any  other  organized  religion,  Emerson  is  an 
individualist.  He  doest  not  have  to  be  in  church  to  find  his 
God,  but  prefers  instead  to  seek  him  in  the  hills  add  forests,  or 
the  streets  of  the  town,  for  the  God  of  Emerson  is  everywhere. 
This  idea  of  the  omnipresence  of  the  Deity  is  exemplified  in  a 
number  of  poems,  chief  of  which,  perhaps,  are  "Brahma",  "Exper- 
ience", "The  Informing  Spirit”,  "Nature"2  "The  Rhodora" , "Music”, 


t '*:■ ' -W.  ‘'''XSI?  ■ 


' ’"ISILf'...  " J 


I J 


If  4r^;  v 


vMt ' "^ 


- - , 4«'  li^  ■ '■  .;‘'‘V'  i{R 

*.1  J C . \^  ' -“•' - * A'  ».lin>i 


P#;' 

'‘'/Hi'’  ’■  *.  " ' 


v:^  V 


“ii'.v'  / * >f/-' '•■'' »^  -f?.«  J ■•;?  5^*'v 

""I'"  . »■*.>  /■«>  '.>JjMf-  ♦.  ‘4  ^wTroSlPI*' 

}««?:**  : crat’  J ■:Xw||Wfil^^'»{,..^ 

fc’  ■■  ■:■■•■::'■  -.  • '■  ■.  '■  ..  '{hu:  r£'' ' ■ '•  1 

K />'i' 

TT-""'  . ‘;  V ■-.  ^ y]  ..'.W  y , " C“'' 


. ; if... >■■*..:■>•  • ■ '.  ’■■„f:.;‘'' 


36 


"Pan",  "Each  and  All",  and  "Threnody".  The  idea  contained  in 
each  is  perhaps  best  conveyed  by  a brief  key-note  quotation; 
"Experience" — 


The  inventor  of  the  game. 

Omnipresent  without  name, 

"The  Informing  Spirit" — 

There  is  no  great  and  no  small 
To  the  Soul  that  raaketh  all. 

" Nat  ure  " — 

Throb  thine  (heart)  with  Nature’s  throbbing  breast 
And  all  is  clear  from  east  to  west, 

"The  Rhodora" — 

The  self-same  lower  that  brought  me  here 

brought  you. 

"Musi c" — 

Let  me  go  where’er  ^ will, 

I hear  a sky-born  music  still; 

It  sounds  from  all  things  old. 

It  sounds  from  all  things  young. 

Prom  all  that’s  fair,  from  all  that’s  foul, 

Peals  out  a cheerful  song. 

It  is  not  only  in  the  rose. 

It  is  not  only  in  the  brijd. 

Not  only  #iere  the  rainiDow  glows. 

Nor  in  the  song  of  woman  heard. 

But  in  the  darkest,  meanest  things. 

There  alway,  alway  something  sings. 

’Tis  not  in  the  high  stars  along. 

Nor  in  the  cup  of  budding  flowers. 

Nor  in  the  redbreast’s  mellow  tone. 

Nor  in  the  bow  that  smiles  in  showers. 

But  in  the  mud  and  scum  of  things 
There  alway,  alway  somethin  g sings . 

Truly,  a poet  whoecan  find  the  voice  and  presence  of  God 

Slgnif icance  in 
All  Things 


in  such  lowly  surroundings  is  rightly 
called  the  poet  of  forward-lioking,  hopeful 


» M t-r 

~r  ^ 


■ 4* 


,%'.'^''*"M . • S'  ■>('•  ■ ' , in'-  <' ^i'y  ■ '.4^  vil^  \:'hWO  '■  .' 

!';m'  % ■;._,  ::-m  -ti. 

•.V.V  .^E  • .> ■.al"'- ’■^'A  ~*-.!k^'i''^’.J^f^^^tfl'«'#tl41l^rl'>Pl 


»E  ft  y V 
^tt'rrrr^ 


37 


hopeful  youth;  suoh  ftiith  is  an  inspiration  and  a challenge. 
Nothing  was  without  significance  to  Emerson: 

’’Each  and  All”-- 

All  are  needed  by  each  one; 

Nothing  is  fair  or  good  alone. 

Tn  the  midst  of  his  almost  overwhelming  grief  at  the  loss 

of  his  beloved  son,  told  in  "Threnody,"  Emerson  saw  the  light 

which  his  faith  held  up  to  him: 


"Threnody" — 

What  is  excellent. 

As  GroT“lives , is  permanent ; 

Marts'  are  d"usT7  heart's"’  Toves  remain: 

Heart ’s"~rove~wril  meet"~thee  again . 

It  seems  to  me  that  "Brahma"  holds  in  condensed  form  the 

The  Poem  Typical  very  essence  of  al  1 that  Emerson  believed 

157”" The  Inner  i'^an " 

about  the  Nature -God  of  his  deism,  ai  d 
further,  is  the  most  representative  of  all  his  poems  which  may 
be  grouped  in  the  class,  the  name  of  which  I have  given  to  this 
chapter:  * 

BRAHMA 

If  the  red  slayer  think  he  slays. 

Or  if  the  slain  think  he  is  slain. 

They  know  not  well  the  subtle  ways 
I keep,  and  pass,  and  turn  again. 

Far  or  forgot  to  me  is  near; 

Shadow  and  sunlight  are  the  same; 

The  vanished  gods  to  me  appear; 

And  one  to  me  are  shame  and  fame. 

They  reckon  ill  who  leave  me  out; 

When  me  they  fly,  I am  the  wings; 

I am  the  doubter  and  the  doubt. 

And  I the  hymn  the  Brahmin  sings. 

'*'Por  list  of  other  poems  which  may  be  considered  in  the  chapter 
"The  Inner  Man,"  see  page 


■f^  .,ttr.- 


■ W 


■ :.-  > A - ■ . '^iSIRv^'5 >'  V.  dlH  v-'<Sil®W  1 

•<  '*  'feiAlAkwiiJ  . .iw  V,. •4'  .»  ' ' 4 •■  ■ 


L'“  - r m :,  . ijV/ « ' : , *7  'iV  ‘^^'•‘'^.'Cf-,  - 


^L 

:,-;  H'" 


•m  *>  '. 


,.■  ^.  .-■  • , ,7>’ 7K'«S^..  V . 

' ®-'‘ .' 


It 


'J^:*.r#  ' «■  .^-,  ,1' ';i,<v-"Sv«C 

‘ ::-f-  j?,''«C*.^|Q;iY 

**'■  ' i 


'#  ,1f  ’ 


.7: 

' ^ •■■£'  '-''^j^f"'-;’ ' w'^'' 

:.•  ■ ^ vmiV  ■■" ' 


,M<i;»'  (HvWg-., 
If','*’!®-  ^11^ 


i>r  - , /,:-;teA-’*A^>'>  f , '<’’'' '7^'^^‘Tie)V . 

/ » » «W  A « ♦•..■(♦♦•t.  ^ A — rf»n  tal 


‘fv, 


■•"/’'  r^r 


m 


% 

. *A 


)• 


: ■ V'" ;/  . V'^i^  !' 


Si 


'“'vr?f.iy  '1  -i^ . i4  A'  0'!r  •..•rilife 

. . ' ^ *'  :•''' .*  ■:^'^'  F 

r" - V. #, ^fi^-'Ji’  gtfjt  • 

r ;V.  •■*••  ./  •{..:»*  ••  / o.  ^'-Si  ,.*‘C.'‘V: ' 4"^  .t:->-^ 


' ? -;.  ~ 


• ..  A'W?:''.  *l(?<\/‘-  : f iv  '>#S>'  •a<yi'.  ,i»(j)^*fv^Cj^E!,  '* 


58 

The  strong  gods  pine  for  my  abode. 

And  pine  in  vain  the  sacred  Seven  ; 

But  thou,  meek  lover  of  the  good! 

Find  me,  and  turn  th^y  hack  on  heaven. 


59 

Chapter  IV 


Poems  of  the  V/orld 

-0- 

” ’Tis  siiffioient  proof  of  a man’s  aberration  to  know 
that  he  is  writing  verses  on  a theory;  that  he  has 
agreed  with  two  or  three  critics  more  to  bring  the 
public  over  to  a new  taste  in  poetry.” — (Letter  to 
Miss  Emerson,  June  I5,  I826.) 

Poems  in  which  the  spiritual  element  dominates  or  has  a 
large  place,  are  chief  among  Emerson ’ s writings;  in  fact,  the 
ratio  of  poems  of  "The  Inner  Man”  class  to  those  properly  class- 
ifiable under  the  hading  "The  Vtforld”  is  about  five  to  one;  and 

A 

this  percentage  differentiation  probably  shows  as  great  disparity 
as  occurs  in  the  works  of  any  poet;  yet  Emerson  wrote  rather  ex- 
tensively and  with  great  success,  on  subjects  remotely  if  at  all 
connected  with  the  subject  matter  in  which  he  was  by  nature  and 
choice  most  deeply  interested.  There  are  subjects,  he  thinks. 

Poetry  Is  lilssential  which  can  not  be  treated  well  in  prose; 

To  S ome"^ub'  j e c t s 

and  although  "Poetry  never  offers  a 
distinct  set  of  sensations,”  Emerson  tells  us  that  "it  is  the 
language  of  the  passions  which  do  not  ordinarily  find  their  full 
expression  in  the  sober  strains  of  prose,”  because,  as  he  be- 
lieves, "it  seems  to  consist  in  the  pleasure  of  finding  out  a 
connection  between  a material  image  and  a moral  sentiment.” 
(Journal  V^  January  12,  l822.) 

Perhaps  the  best  examples  of  the  carrying  out  of  this 
theory  of  Emerson’s — treating  a certain  subject  in  verse  form 
because  it  does  not  yield  itself  readily  to  "the  sober  s’’:  ‘ o 


%^b  - : 3 ’ V 


T>'^\ 


•■«^7(p.'V 

f '<’  ■ ■ ;■  . 


>' 

VK:!'Ci  I '7  at-  i + ■■  'f" 


t'  .11 


u 


■ *'''  7 i-i-  - 7 -.LO.\  f f-T  p.'i  ft  ? «i  fiA»'  ■^S({  ■»;-  ,' 

'■;  •■■•*  " :*ir-‘  v.«M  ^4i'7  . Rv  v: 

r.?-  ,_,1- 

• ■■  . ’-w*'  ..^^nikr.  ireiif' ■ 

■ ■'  . ''  .i'  ' . iv*'  ' 

■ ' ~ : ' K&y- 

a 'r-ii’.'f  -*o  j;-..' / .;n  ;:  •..,  /"•f.-rifV: .r«>  >pi  : rfol-iv'  itl  ' 

1 

: r*  17;*-;  ■ /•.  ’ iTo«tT«r'«i  'r rit r\i;:  ^ 


cli^"’v.:-*r-vcri*;<i  ' ^f\.*.f.r-  •••  ^ ..n<-X‘-. 

. ..-.’•>  li  ' 

r: : \ ' 

If  ?,-T5oq 

; ■■  ''f  - v;-:  t;uy^_u  "'cl^c  . ■!^^:'^ 

<‘  ..1  , • 
'."j  i- 

V.X  'T^fl 

^’■•‘  »ic*!  • ■•  ii.-  ••■•v.r.  .<a,  •^jC(jriTd<”;t^  pi< • l &: 

7 "ri^‘ 

7 ,i: 

■ . ■ ■ . ■ /Jl'-'  ‘ : 

> ''  'TV . > rc 'i  . t . r«  , 'H-:  ,t •?,  V .,  ; r V p 

*■-  1 

i.  U ■ 

L-'iJa.v’ii  -'i  i'.'V..'rtr(- ; u*4  f»v  4/iT' '.ivar 


V V'  * 

, 4-Cv,,:.o  if  if  ^Wj;f  .;•' 

. , ' , , ' ‘ ■'  ’ 


r;. 


-I  ■ ■ “■  • . ' ■'■  .4  ‘ 

: £i'3(j7Q  .'!  t ; ‘-'r&  -y  :^vn  <■**,&• 

'.L~>':'-  r,  'Ir-  -fW,  t'f  A. 


If'-". 


ht(f  -fiP 


.>  ’’:  7nf'e«u  sT 

«W  Ai.  ^ .MKI  ,***^ 


)■ 


.i  O ' ^0(i' 

1 • / ' ^ ' ' 

.i''  , '-' .''  f-"  - ri  r> 

•-■.■•i'DXi' 

C-  '•;•> 

; .i  7 *.  ■,  ^ C • 

?’•  Xc.  rfffrC?/ 

T'  ’ 

:"''s 

;:>'i  rj;'t4W 

' r »;  6 .-  ■•'>1 

/' 

'7*''  y.,; 

7 ''V: Xi.;'- 

■r’'  - 

♦ iri’jlf'  i ! '.'  ..'  \r 

“;  ■ 4 vlfi 

ry ..  r'v7  ■ 

, ‘r.'ifil, 

'•■'  O'lTr  ” ’. 

'5  : • '•  itiitJr^is  . ^ X X 0 ^4 OL  '■ 

■'  ' , ,i  " -.‘7  ' 

? -'  /'riV  ' ‘j*5'^^'' ' 


^ . H‘^vJ9lwlNQ^ 

1 --r  ’ ’ o t*:  cc.iIX,iV 

7. 5? ' f i *!  ;;  V r s 3*  .r  ^^<Ai  ct 


, 7. 


llu  • ' L 


J\!. 


40 


strains  of  prose" — are  "May  Day"  and  "The  Adirondacks" . Now, 
either  of  these  long  poems,  so  far  as  suh,iect  matter  is  conoerned, 
contain  only  those  commonplaces,  if  we  regard  the  poems  superfi- 
cially, which  Emerson  might  well  have  put  into  prose;  as,  for 
example,  he  did  in  his  *^ournals  when  he  took  a short  walking 
tour  ’cross  country  for  a few  days;  but  behind  the  description  in 
"May-Day"  of  the  "Daughter  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  coy  Spring,  with 
sudden  passion  languishing,"  and  the  "Hard  fare,  hard  bed  and 
comic  misery"  which  Emerson  and  his  companions  found  in  their 
jaunt  into  the  Adirondacks,"  there  are  note  of  thoughtfulness  and 
a lyric  vein,  which  lacking  by  virtue  of  structure  in  prose, 
would  cause  the  reader  to  lose  part  of  the  effect  which  the  writer 
is  striving  to  create  and  establish. 

Ear  as  Emerson  usually  stayed  from  love  in  its  sentimental 

or  romantic  form,  we  find  occasionally  a poem  which  might  almost 

Poems  of  Eliza-  be  class  as  Elizabethan  in  tone,  if  not  in 

be than  Form 

form  and  emotional  excess;  such  as  "The 
Amulet"  and  "Thine  Eyes  Still  Shined” ; 

THE  AJiULET 

Your  picture  smiles  as  first  it  smiled; 

The  ring  you  gave  is  still  the  same; 

Your  letter  tells,  0 changing  child: 

No  tidings  since  it  came. 

Give  me  an  amulet 

That  keeps  intelligence  with  you, — 

Red  when  you  love,  and  rosier  red. 

And  when  you  love  not,  p^le  and  blue. 

Alas’,  that  neither  bonds  nor  vows 
Can  certify  possession: 

Torments  me  still  the  fear  that  love 
Died  in  its  last  expression. 


y , r * --V-, 

^ Fi  I Viii7f  ■ ''  ■ '•  ^ 


i2  ‘ ’ -^5^  *’  ia>  ff  , ifricjs^  iy?4>E 


' i^*>V '■  , ■'*•'.  ■'  /' '•■  -■■  •’■  ■ -H'  " . ' s ' ^ r ■' • ' • '^'•.  ■■■^•*'‘^'•5  . ^ *• ' ^’>' . 


‘feFfi  »t£T  X il■i5^ 

1 ' ,^  ■ , 4!ii 
-h 


Jv;c>t£f©tt*Jt«!>8.  iJl  ervfiri'- 

y ■ <r-  .J  I ■■  . ■«  . ‘ V • ^Vtf  ■ ..-  !,  - •*>'..-  ^ AgSlt>.M’^E 

f ■ rin.frf^tf -"-"AfVfli 


Xif»  I 6o4o<Pc^\?l:S ’ 

«•  ■’i*'*-’'  ' -'>'V  •^ •«  'v^v  a ' • . .>.'  ^ 


* *••*  t i- 


'.« . 


‘ ..^IJ 


41 


THINE  EYES  STILT.  SHINED 

Thine  eyes  still  shined  for  rae , though  far 
I lonely  roved  the  land  or  sea; 

As  1 behold  yon  evening  star, 

Which  yet  beholds  not  me . 

This  morn  1 climbed  the  misty  hill 
And  roamed  the  pastures  through; 

How  danced  they  form  before  my  path 
Amidst  the  deep-eyed  dewl 

When  the  redbird  spread  his  sable  wing. 

And  showed  his  side  of  flame; 

When  the  rosebud  ripened  to  the  rose. 

In  both  I read  they  name . 

One  of  the  best  of  Emerson’s  poems  in  "The  World"  group 

is  on  a religious  subject — "The  Concord  Hymn" — or  rather  on  a 

politico-religious  subject,  dealing  as  it  does  with  a monument 

dedication.  It  may  seem  surprising  that  I have  chosen  this  as 

The  "Occasional"  one  of  the  most  typical  in  this  group, 

Yoem 

when  its  nature  seems  such  as  to  preclude 
the  possibility  of  such  classification;  but  the  poem  has  hardly 
a word  of  philosophical  import  in  it;  it  is  neither  introspective 
nor  didactic,  but  is  merely  a commemoratory  poem  of  occasional 
nature ; 

CONCORD  HYim 

By  the  rude  bridge  that  arched  the  flood. 

Their  flag  to  April’s  breeze  unfurled, 

Hered  once  the  embattled  farmers  stood. 

And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world. 

The  foe  long  since  in  silence  slept; 

Alike  the  conqueror  silent  sleeps; 

And  time  the  ruined  bridge  has  swept 

Down  the  dark  stream  which  seaward  creeps. 

On  this  green  bank,  by  this  soft  stream. 

We  set  today  a votive  stone; 

That  memory  may  their  deed  redeem. 

When,  like  our  sires,  our  sons  are  gone. 


>» 


m 


% ‘ jt;*'-' 


ytf 


L -4,^'  t ' *vi 


■'  '7i 

- ■•/'i' 

'IP- 


if-i| . •■■.*•  llWi;  titrii 

X ' J 

."■  '7;f:,.vv^  no V \ ,i  |t 

. ..  'tprs , ni. ' ..  -!*e<f  \U^7'  '■.:  • .. 

■■  -r%.  v . ' •% 


11.  ( ■'  ' , -I  1^0.  ’’o,  I 


■...'.  j-  'C  &.C'  ot 


0 'r_  . ' o '.tOaetjaT^oTf'*' 


*7  'j  1 .■  'ri 


''‘i  - '£  >■«' 

■ J ■ iV*  ■ ■ 


r.r.'OiiO'f'  ul  * ■ .K/l«7  '^'IV 

: • ',  " . , •^  i 'isTi^i  .1' ' ■' 


i V 


; I 


re 


’ I ^"^:G  ■ ^CLX0^ 

- , ■ V ' 

: oc^.\{!  Jv  x\J.J»r  r no 


i i' 


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• 7 , j-j  '-  s^,  JtX  ■ -oe>,t'i'i;XMT^  S 


;t.  j ' 


7 i , 

i '/to  l.qv.’f  J■o^.,•  ,-i<  r ^0 


tj'j'.  ,t  • -:'l'  ' ;-\.r  n'*-'y  ••:;x''.<ri  .'.ft/L'i' 


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j *'»- .'.  / . ' < 

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<.  .• 


r*'  t :i»  < '7  •'  ■’  i X‘»7f X J .'  : V -fi  1.  J • 


■>  ' . ,1  ’ 


; 


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''  , "fc’  r , > *■»’/ 

. ' I-  ,•  . ■ .'  , ' .'  .»/• 

•■■'  7 t.i  .)■  ...o, ' , •■  •!■:; 


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e*  o.r;:> 


o 


. 7 e-j-n  07>  ' I ■•  ojr*  ti 

■*?•'  ,’  •f'ifT  .‘"(li'o.-a.'  I»*t/  •>5f  ./‘‘or' 'i  ^ ^ h ^ 1 ■ •. 


.1  - 4 


; XV  or.«f  i.fcfl  •>;., . .ii  co’r 

'-V.  -j.o' o:fXXA-  r.wKxod-i 

“O.'  ; 

. .“‘:C'H  .''i..'f.l  ’rn  , . «*,<f  7 ftO- 

(vri3  -'-I 

, "iiO-'ot  v;7i. 


. '\re: 


‘T-Tf" 


1 


42 


Spirit,  that  made  those  heroes  dare 

To  die,  and  leave  their  children  free. 

Bid  Time  and  I'lature  gently  spare 

The  shaft  we  raise  to  them  and  thee. 

Of  quite  sidiilar  nature  is  the  "Ode"  sung  in  the  Town  Hall, 
Concord,  July  4,  1857*  If  anything,  it  has,  toward  the  close, 
still  more  of  the  religious  note  than  is  given  in  the  last  stanza 
of  the  "Concord  Hymn?,  where  there  is  an  invocation  to  the  Deity 
to  spare  from  natural  disintegration  the  memorial  to  the  patriots; 
yet  the  "Ode"  is  fully  as  typical  a poem  of  "The  V/orld"  class  as 
is  the  "Concord  Hymn;"  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  "Boston 
Hymn" , commemorative  of  the  issuing  of  the  ^mancipation  Proclam- 
ation by  President  Lincoln,  which  went  into  effect  January  1,  I863. 
It  will  be  noticed  that  the  poems  described  just  above  are  occa- 
sional poems,  written  for  a temporal  usage;  but  that  Emerson  could 
write  others  as  well,  is  clearly  shown  in  such  a delightful  bit 
of  lyric  beauty  as  "April",  which  is  anything  but  didactic,  devoid 
of  a serious  thought,  and  is  in  fact  nothing  but  a songlike  spring 
poem  of  charm: 

APRIL 

The  April  winds  are  magical 
And  thrill  our  tuneful  frames; 

The  garden  walks  are  passional 
To  bachelors  and  dames. 

The  hedge  is  gemmed  with  diamonds. 

The  air  with  Cupids  full. 

The  cobweb  clues  of  Rosemond 
Guide  lovers  to  the  pool. 

Each  iimp'le 'in  the  water. 

Each  leaf  that  shades  the  rock 
Can  cozen,  pique  and  flatter, 

Gan  parle.v  and  provoke. 

Goodfellow,  Puck  and  Goblins, 

Know  more  than  any  book. 

Down  with  your  doleful  problems. 

And  court  the  sunny  brook. 


s'  . 


*vi~< 
M -fl 


’ vi7;v 


^ ■ .V  :■,•/}  , i Tbilisi, 

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45 


The  south-winds  are  quick-witted. 

The  schools  are  sad  and  slow. 

The  masters  quite  omitted 
The  lore  we  care  to  know. 

In  marked  contrast  to  the  saucy,  flippant  gaiety  of  the 

pagan  spring  rhapsody  "April"  is  the  first  stanza  of  the  "Vol- 

"High  untaries,"  written  when  the  bitterness  of  the 

Seriousness" 

Rebellion  was  at  its  height.  It  seems  t o me 
to  be  the  best  example  of  high  seriousness  in  Emerson’s  verse, 
aside  from  some  of  the  poems  in  "The  Inner  Man" , which  are  of 
a different  nature,  and  which  can  not  well  be  compared  .iustly 
to  the  powerful,  dignified  sadness  of  this  stanza: 

VOLUNTARIES 

I. 

Low  and  mournful  be  the  strain. 

Haughty  thought  be  far  from  me; 

Tones  of  penitence  and  pain. 

Meanings  of  the  tropic  sea; 

Low  and  tender  in  the  cell 
V<here  a captive  sits  in  chains, 

Crooning  ditties  treasured  well 
Prom  his  Afric’s  torrid  plains, 

Sole  estate  his  sire  bequeathed, — 

Hapless  sire  to  hapless  son, — 

V^as  the  wailing  song  he  breathed. 

And  his  chain  when  life  was  done. 

V/hat  his  fault,  or  what  his  crime? 

Or  what  ill  planet  crossed  his  prime? 

Heart  too  soft  and  will  too  weak 
To  front  the  fate  that  crouches  near, — 

Dove  beneath  the  vulture’s  beak; — 

Will  song  dissuade  the  thirsty  spear? 

Dragged  from  his  mother’s  arms  and  breast. 
Displaced,  disfurnished  here. 

His  wistful  toil  to  do  his  best 
Chilled  by  a ribald  .ieer. 

Great  men  in  the  Senate  sate. 

Sage  and  hero,  side  by  side. 

Building  for  their  sons  the  State, 

Which  they  shall  rule  with  pride. 

They  forbore  to  break  the  chain 
Which  bound  the  dusky  tribe. 


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44 


Checked  by  the  owner’s  fierce  disdain, 

Lured  by  ”Union'’  as  the  bribe, 

Destiny  sat  by,  and  said, 

’Pang  for  pang  your  seed  shall  pay. 

Hide  in  false  peace  your  coward  head, 

I bring  round  the  harvest  day.’ 

Poems  of  "The  World” — 

To  J . 'I'*. — Destiny — Hamatreya — The  Humble -Bee --The  Snow 
Storm — Fable — Ode — To  fillen--To  iiJva — Thine  Eyes  Still 
Shined — Xenophanes — Concord  Hymn — May-Day--The  Adiron- 
dacks — Ode — Bost on  Hymn — Voluntaries — Boston — Soluti on- 
-Hyran--The  Romany  Girl--fily  Garden — Sea-Shore--April-- 
In  Meraoriam — Politics — Culture — Manners — Art — The  Amulet 
--The  T/i/aterfall — Monadnoc — ^The  South  Wind — Webster-- 
Written  in  a Volume  of  Goethe--The  Hnchanter-- 

Poeras  of  "The  Inner  Man" — 

The  Sphinx--Each  and  All — ^The  Problem--To  Rhea--The  Visit-- 
Uriel — The  Vyorld-Soiil--Alphonso  of  Castile — Mithridates-- 
Earth-Song — Good -Bye — The  Rhodora--Berrying--Woodnotes — 
Monadnoc — -astraea — Etienne  de  La  Boece — Compensation  — 
Forbearance — The  Hark — -t'orerunners  — Sursum  Corda--0de 
to  Beauty — Give  ^11  to  Dove — Eros--Hermione — Initial, 
Daemonic,  and  Celestial  Dove — The  Apology--Merlin--Bacchus- 
Merops — Saudi — Holidays--The  Day’s  Ration--Blight — Muske- 
taquid — Dirge --Threnody- -Brahma — Pate — Freedom--Letters — 
Rubies — The  Test — Days--The  Chartist’s  Gomplaint--The 
Titmouse--The  Harp — Song  of  Nature--Two  Rivers — Walde- 
insamkeit — Terminus — The  Nun’s  As^i rat ion --Maiden  Speech — 
of  the  Aeolian  Barp--Oupido — The  Hast--The  Dast  Parewell-- 
In  Experience — Compensation- -Hero ism — Character- -Friend- 
ship— Beauty — Spiritual  Daws--Unity — Worship — Pan--The  Poet 
Dife — The  Bohemian  Hymn--Prayer — Grace--Eros( 2 ) — Written 
in  Haples — ^Written  at  Rome — Peter’s  Field — The  '*'alk — May 
Morning--The  Miracle--Pame — Philosopher--Limits . 


-0- 


45 

Cha  pter  V 

Essays  on  the  Wen  of  Letters 

-0- 

Emerson  is  the  American  essayist  par-excellence.  His  rank 

the  world  over  in  the  field  of  letters  is  largely  dependent  upon 

his  skill  in  handling  the  essay,  in  which  he  has  touched  upon 

almost  every  subject.  The  essay  constitutes  by  far  the  greater 

part  of  his  published  works;  and  a considerable  portion  of  his 

journals,  in  which  he  recorded  his  thoughts  day  by  day,  or  from 

time  to  time,  to  speak  more  correctly,  consists  of  essays  or  essay- 

material,  later  developed  and  expanded.  Uoon  first  thought,  it 

The  ^oet-  seems  odd  that  a lyric  poet--for  lyric  poet 

Pliil^sopher 

Emerson  was,  even  in  his  most  philosophical 
poems — should  be  an  essayist  of  first  rank.  We  commonly  think 
of  essays,  particularly  those  of  the  meditative  or  scholarly  type, 
as  coming  from  a man  to  whom  poetry  is  well  nigh  a stranger;  yet 
Emerson  is  a poet  of  renown.  He  succeeds  in  writing  essays  and 
lyric  poetry  both,  throu.gh  the  force  of  sheer  genius  and  intellect. 
Frequently  a poem  in  his  customarily  short  lyric-measure  precedes, 
and  sets  the  key-note  for,  an  essay  which  is  an  expansion  of  the 
subject  treated  in  the  poem. 

Such  essays  as  Emerson  wrote  were  not  the  work  of  a few 
idle  moments,  nor  were  they  dashed  off  speedily,  as  are  the  some- 
what similar  essays  of  such  modern  writers  as  Dr.  Frank  Crane, 
Herbert  Kaufman,  Bruce  Barton,  or  E.  W.  Howe.  These  men  write 
for  the  syndicated  daily  press.  What  they  write  must,  perforce, 
be  done  at  the  moment  and  for  the  moment,  no  matter  how  much 


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46 


Thoughts  Back  they  may  have  turned  the  sub.iect  over  in  their 

Of  the  s ays 

minds  preliminary  to  setting  down  their  views 
on  paper.  Emerson  "went  into  solitude"  when  he  thought  out  mater- 
ial for  an  essay.  Probably  not  one  of  the  many  essays  he  wrote 
was  composed  at  one  time,  as  the  modern  novel  writer  makes  a 
chapter  in  his  bo  >k.  Continuity  of  thought  is  not  so  essential 
for  the  essay-writer  as  it  is  for  the  poet  who  writes  long  pieces. 
The  familiar-  essay  is  an  expression  of  a mood,  in  large  measure; 

Emerson^  s but  a didactic  essay,  such  as  nearly  all  of 

Essays  Didactic 

Emerson’s  are,  is  the  result  of  meditation; 
it  is  a gradual  growth,  and  develops  and  expands  in  the  author’s 
mind  as  the  oak  slowly  grows  from  the  acorn,  and  does  not  spring 
into  being  mushroom-like. 

Emerson  was  in  the  habit  of  forsaking  his  fomal  study-room, 
where  he  could  never  be  entirely  solitary  because  of  his  books, 
and  going  to  Walden,  or  for  a stroll  through  the  woods.  Undoubt- 
edly his  essays  are  the  slowly-ripened  fruit  of  his  meditations 
while  on  his  solitary  rambles.  As  he  went  out  into  the  country 
and  viewed  nature --the  open  air  nature --Emerson  meditatednupoh 
this  nature  and  that  which  is  manifested  through  man  and  his 
activities.  He  was  practically  never  without  his  notebook;  or, 
if  pad  and  pencil  did  not  accompany  him  to  a '''  the  woods  and 
fields,  then  the  thoughts  he  had  while  there  were  set  down  per- 
manently as  soon  as  he  returned  to  his  study.  Emerson  tells  us 
that  Wordsworth  often  carried  even  hundreds  of  lines  of  ooetry 
in  his  mind  before  writing  a stanesa;  and  this  is  well  and  good 
for  the  poet  who  needs  to  keep  in  progressive  order  his  rhymes 


c?VT^/1 

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47 


and  lines;  but  the  essayist  of  Emerson^s  type  cannot,  and  need  not. 

Gathering  the  work  in  this  wise.  For  him  it  is  enough  to 

?*ragments  into 

A Whole  ^ record  the  fragment  of  an  idea;  and  then, 

when  the  time  comes  for  the  writing  of  a for- 
mal essay,  or  the  delivering  or  reading  of  an  equally  formal  lect- 
ure, these  fragments  may  be  gathered  up  and  made  into  a mosaic 
whole . 

Many  of  Emerson’s  essays,  as  they  nov^  stand,  were  once 
lectures,  either  delivered  or  read.  It  is  difficult  to  distinguish 
between  most  of  his  lectures  and  his  essays  which  were  written  en- 
tirely as  essays,  such  is  the  character  of  his  writing.  It  is  not 
often  that  this  is  the  case ; for  usually  the  spoken  lecture  must 
needs  be  amended  and  amended  before  it  is  suitable  for  printing  as 
an  essay  or  brochure.  An  example  of  excellent  proof  of  this  occurs 
to  me.  Col.  R.  G.  Ingersoll,  one  of  the  greatest  of  modern 

The  Rssay  lecturer-orators,  spbke  on  subjects  which  are. 

And  the  Speech 

or  may  be,  excellent  essay  topics;  yet  if  one 
will  read  the  usual  collection  of  his  addresses  in  printed  form, 
it  is  at  once  apparent  that  a great  deal  of  effect  is  lost  in 
printing  them.  The  majority  of  Colonel  Ingersoll ’s  printed  works 
were  never  written  by  him  for  publication,  but  have  been  assembled 
from  stenographic  and  newspaper  reports  of  his  lectures  as  de- 
livered. I do  not  know  how  great  a use  of  notes  Ingersoll  made 
in  delivering  a lecture ; but  certainly  he  did  not  write  out  a 
lecture  as  Emerson  did,  so  that  it  could  be  printed  and  lose  none 
of  its  effect,  without  revision.  An  excellent  example  of  how  a 
reported  essay  of  Emerson’s  may  stand  as  a complete  and  printable 


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„«?r'<ot'W 

•'  ■'■'•■  ■■•^  4-*  *;.7-7vV!'-7?’’  '.tf.  ■•  ’’A'  ••’’ 


^.,  E%v*^v  v:''n  3-  ,>  . - 

t*. <»;«<?  /i  VafD^^ 


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48 

bit  of  writing  is  given  by  Emerson  himself,  although  he  does  not 
comment  on  it,  in  his  book  on  "English  Traits,"  where iA  is  found 
his  "Speech  at  Manchester",  -Emerson  says:  "A  few  days  after  my 
arrival  at  i^^an  Chester,  in  November,  184.7 » "tke  Manchester  Athenaeum 
gave  its  annual  banquet  ill  the  Eree -Trade  Hall.  With  other  guests, 
I was  invited  to  be  present,  and  to  address  the  company.  In 
looking  o^er  recently  a nev/paper  report  of  my  remarks,  I incline 
to  reprint  it,  as  fitly  expressing  the  feeling  with  which  I entered 
England,  and  which  agrees  well  enough  with  the  more  deliberate 
results  of  better  acquaintance  recorded  in  the  foregoing  pages. 

Sir  Archibald  Alison,  the  historian,  presided,  and  opened  the 
meeting  with  a speech.  He  was  followed  by  Mr.  Cobden,  Lord  Brack- 
ley,  and  others,  among  whom  v/as  Mr.  Cruikshank,  one  of  the  contri- 
butors to  Punch.  Mr.  Dickenses  letter  of  apology  for  his  absence 
was  read.  Mr.  Jerrold,  who  had  been  announced,  xdid  not  appear. 

On  being  introduced  to  the  meeting,  I said... "and  there  follows 
the  account  of  Mr.  Emerson’s  speech  in  the  Free-Trade  Hall. 

"Reportable"  Certainly  the  man  who  could  so  arran  ge 

Quality  of  speeches 

his  remarks  that  a newspaper  report  of 
them  was  satisfactory  enough  to  him  (or  else  he  was  so  well  re- 
ported) that  he  "inclines  to  reprint  it"  without  change,  is  poss- 
essed of  a wonderful  pov/er  and  ability  in  composing  his  thoughts’. 
And  this  is  but  illustrative  of  Emerson’s  skill  as  shown  at  si  1 
times.  An  essayist  who  can  do  this  well  deserves  the  reputation 
he  has  gained. 

Not  only  was  Emerson’s  thought  such  that  tt  suited  the 
essay  form  of  writing  exactly,  but  his  diction  as  well  we  find 


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49 

aptly  suited  for  this  sort  of  composition.  An  essay  is  not  to  be 
regarded  as  a formal  argument  like  that  of  a writer  who  is  pre- 
senting a nev;  theory  of  chemistry;  nor  should  we  think  of  an  essay 
as  being  well  written  only  when  it  shows  an  orderly  progression 
from  opening  sentence,  which  should  be  in  the  style  of  a newpaper 
lead,  through  the  body  of  the  argument  or  exposition  to  a close 
which  is  as  clearly  cut  as  the  sharp  and  incisive  sentence  with 

The  Essay  which  such  a writer  as  Poe  concluded  a narrative. 

A Mosa'ic 

No;  an  essayist’s  subject  matter,  particularly 
if  that  essayist  be  an  Emerson,  we  see  as  a grouping,  more  or 
less  arbitrary,  of  multitudinous  details.  It  has  been  said  that 
Carlyle’s  individual  sentences  are  each  as  sharply-cut  and  dis- 
tinct as  jewels;  can  we  not  say,  then,  that  an  essay  of  Emerson’s 
is  a mos&ic,  in  which, on  close  inspection,  we  can  see  the  com- 
ponent individual  stones,  rather  than  a bit  of  homogeneous  hardened 
plaster-modeling? 

Emerson  excels  in  the  individual  sentence.  He  is  terse, 

restrained,  epigrammatic.  Perhaps  a greater  number  of  epigrams 

Emerson,  can  be  found  in  his  works  than  in  those 

Master  of  Epigram 

of  any  other  writer  of  essays  or  other 
long  compositions.  For  purposes  of  illustration,  consider  the 
following  epigrammatic  sentences,  which  I here  quote  as  best 
illustrative  of  Emerson’s  power  of  saying  a thing  of  moment  in  an 
extremely  condensed  form: 

"All  literature  writes  the  character  of  the  wise  man." 
(History) 

"A  man  is  the  whole  encyclopedia  of  facts."  (History.) 


50 


"Every  feforra  was  onoe  a private  opinion,  and  when  it  shall 
be  a private  opinion  again  it  will  solve  the  problem  of 
the  age.”  (History) 


"Speak  your  latest  conviction,  and  it  shall  be  the  uni- 
versal sense.”  (Self-Reliance.) 


"Nothing  is  at  last  sacred  but  the  integrity  of  your 
own  mind,"  (Self-Reliance.) 


"Intellect  is  the  simple  power  anterior  to  all  action  or 
construction.  (Intellect) 

"The  world  exists  for  the  education  of  each  man,"  (History) 


"Time  dissipates  to  shining  ether  the  solid  angularity 
of  feicts."  (History) 


"Nothing  astonishes  men  so  much  a s common-sense  and 
plain  dealing."  (Art) 


"The  wisest  doctor  is  gravelled  by  the  inquisitiveness 
of  a child."  (Intellect) 


"Let  not  your  virtue  be  of  the  written  or  spoken  sort, 
but  of  the  practiced,"  (Journal  XIV,  I824  j 


"Nature  is  an  endless  combination  and  repetition  of  a 
very  few  laws."  (History) 


"Nature  is  a mutable  cloud  which  is  always  and  never  the 
same."  (Historyt 


"The  life  of  a man  is  the  epitome  of  the  life  of  a body 
of  men."  (Journal  XVIII , Mar.,  1825) 


"Every  man  beholds  his  human  condition  m th  a degree  of 
melancholy."  (Intellect) 


"Man  is  a foolish  slave  who  is  busy  in  forging  his  own 
fetters."  (Journal  XII,  June,  I823 ) 


•V ■ 


.-  .’fp 


-)•  tv/'-' 


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t'c 


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J^p. 

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51 

"Sympathy  is  the  wine  of  life."  ( Journal  XIII , Jan.  25,  1824 

"What  is  our  life  hut  an  endless  flight  of  winged  facts 
or  events?"  (History) 

"In  every  work  of  genius  we  recognize  our  own  re,1ected 
thoughts."  (Self-Reliance) 

"What  is  a man  hut  nature’s  finer  success  in  self-expli- 
cation?"  (Art) 


"Every  law  which  the  state  enacts  indicates  a fact  in 
human  nature;  that  is  all*"  (History) 


"A  mind  might  ponder  its  thoughts  for  ages  and  not  gain 
so  much  self-knowledge  as  the  passion  of  love  shall 
teach  it  in  a day."  (History) 


"A  foolish  consistency  is  the  hohgohlin  of  little  minds, 
adored  hy  little  statesmen  and  philosophers  and  divines." 
( Self-Reliance • ) 

( Sel 

"Our  spontaneous  action  is  always  the  hest."  (Intellect) 


"There  is  time  enough  for  every  business  men  are  really 
resolved  to  do."  (Journal  XIV.  1824) 


"The  difference  between  men  is  in  their  principle  of 
association."  (History) 


"To  he  great  is  to  he  misunderstood."  (Self-Reliance) 

"The  bodies  of  intemperate  men  are  the  tombs  of  immortal 
minds." 


"Truth  is  handsomer  than  the  affectation  of  love." 

( Self-Reliance) 

"What  is  the  use  of  pretending  to  know  what  we  know  not?" 
(History) 


"To  believe  too  much  is  dangerous,  because  it  is  the 


u w if,  t 


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51^ 


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52 


near  neighbour  of  unbelief.  Pantheism  leads  to  Atheism." 

(Journal  XVI II , Mar.  11.  1827) 

What  Emerson  said  in  few  words,  in  single  sentences  like  the 
above — and  these  are  but  hastily  chosen  examoles  from  a huge 
source — other  writers  use.  and  have  used,  paragraphs  or  chapters 
to  express.  One  can  study  Emerson’s  individual  sentences  as  a 
^ewfeler  would  study  the  individual  pearls  on  a strand  of  beads, 
such  is  the  way  in  which  they  stand  distinct,  and  yet  linked 
into  a whole. 

In  general,  it  may  be  said  that  a rough  division  of  Emer- 
son’s essays  may  be  made  so  that  all  the  sub.lects  he  covered  may 
be  classified  as  Special  or  as  General.  He  dealt  with  the 

Rough  Grouping  qualities  of  Jian  in  the  large,  and  he  dealt 

Of  Essays 

with  the  qualities  of  the  named  man.  He 
touched  upon  a history  that  is  universal,  and  upon  the  sagas  of 
the  Northmen.  His  facile  pen  wrote  with  equal  wisdom  and  ex- 
cellence of  poetry  as  a symbol,  and  of  Shakespeare,  the  immortal 
bard.  I have  found  it  more  practical,  hov;ever,  in  discussing 
Emerson’s  essays,  to  forsake  such  an  obvious  grouping  as  that 
which  I have  mentioned  above,  and  instead  have  arranged  in  what 
seems  to  me  a proper  sequence,  regardless  of  chronological  cont- 
inuity, or  type,  from  the  standpoint  of  special  or  general  sub- 
ject -matter,  the  essays  considered,  feeling  that  the  grouping 
in  the  following  pages  is  of  far  greater  advantage  in  leading  to 
an  understanding  of  the  subjects  Emerson  treated,  and  the  manner 
in  which  he  handled  them. 

During  an  oration  delivered  before  the  literary  societies 


r,^-«r7injj»T.iMpfr  gjnripngi 


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.T-  ^ ’ L ' ■ 


53 

of  Dartmouth  college,  July  24,  1838,  Emerson  said  that  he  felt 
that  one  of  the  things  of  greatest  benefit  to  him  in  his  under- 
graduate days  was  his  belief  in  the  place  of  the  scholar  in  the 
world:  ”I  have  reached  the  middle  age  of  man,"  he  said,  "yet  I 
believe  I am  not  less  glad  or  sanguine  at  the  meeting  of  scholars, 
than  when,  a boy,  I first  saw  the  graduates  of  my  own  College 
assembled  at  their  anniversary.  Neither  years  nor  books  hare  yet 

The  Place  of  availed  to  extirpate  a pre.iudice  then  rooted 

The  S'chola'r" 

in  me,  that  a scholar  is  the  favourite  of 
heaven  and  earth,  the  excellency  of  his  country,  the  happiest  of 
men.  His  duties  lead  him  directly  into  the  holy  ground  where 
other  men's  aspirations  only  point.  His  successes  are  occasions 
of  the  purest  ,1oy  to  all  men.  Eyes  is  he  to  the  blind;  feet  is 
he  to  the  lame.  His  failures,  if  he  is  worthy,  are  inlets  to 
higher  advantages.  And  because  the  scholar,  by  every  thought  he 
thinks,  extends  his  dominion  into  the  general  mind  of  men,  he 
is  not  one,  but  many.  The  few  scholars  in  each  country,  whose 
genius  I know,  seem  to  me  not  individuals,  but  societies;  and, 
when  events  occur  of  great  import,  I count  over  these  represent- 
atives of  opinion,  whom  they  will  affect,  as  if  I were  counting 
nations.  And,  even  if  his  results  were  incomijiunicable  ; if  they 
abode  in  his  own  spirit;  the  intellect  hath  somewhat  so  sacred 
in  its  possessions,  that  the  fact  of  his  existence  and  pursuits 
would  be  a happy  omen." 

Thus  Emerson;  and  he  points  out  that  the  one  who  holds  the 

Intellect,  the  sceptre  is  limited  in  his  monarchy  of  nature 

Divine  ii’orce 

and  men  by  the  intellect  which  is  his  divine 


^ isirtiyn 


”'  t^ij*  rt*  hiJb4A 


0:i  ^ i,  ; 

' ••.  i 

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54 


force.  He  says:  ’’The  resources  of  the  scholar  are  proportioned 
to  his  confidence  in  the  attributes  of  the  Intellect.  The  re- 
sources of  the  scholar  are  co-extensive  v;ith  nature  and  truth, 
yet  can  never  be  his,  unless  claimed  by  him  with  an  equal  great- 
ness of  mind.  He  cannot  Imow  them  until  he  has  beheld  with  awe 
the  infinitude  and  impersonality  of  the  intellectual  power. 

When  he  has  seen,  that  it  is  not  his,  nor  any  man^s,  but  that 
it  is  the  soul  v/hich  made  the  world,  and  that  it  is  all  access- 
ible to  him,  he  will  Imow  that  he,  as  its  minister,  may  right- 
fully hold  all  things  subordinate  and  answerable  to  it." 

If  the  scholar,  the  literary  man,  such  as  Emerson  wrote 

of,  and  such  as  will  be  considered  in  this  chapter,  is  to  go  on 

"Spiritual  and  exercise  and  exhibit  his  power,  Emerson 

Independence” 

would  have  us  know,  he  must  not  be  bound  by 
conventionality,  must  not  be  a slave  to  precept  or  forever  in 
fear  of  going  where  there  is  no  guiding  precendent:  "The  sense 
of  spiritual  independence  is  like  the  lovely  varnish  of  the  dew, 
whereby  the  old,  hard,  peaked  earth,  and  its  old  self-same  pro- 
ductions, are  made  new  every  morning,  and  shining  with  the  last 
touch  of  the  artist’s  hand.” 

These,  then,  were  the  qiialities  the  scholar  must  have; 
and  Emerson  wrote  a series  of  essays  on  men  representative,  each 
in  his  field,  of  all  the  attributes  mentioned.  Your  scholar  is 
not  necessarily  a poet,  not  necessarily  an  historian;  but  he 
must  be  the  highest  in  his  field. 

REPRESBNTAT IVE  MEN 

"It  is  natural,"  Emerson  reminds  us,  "to  believe  in  great 


1 1 


<*  I 


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55 


men.  If  the  companions  of  our  childhood  should  turn  out  to  be 
heroes,  and  their  conditions  regal,  it  w)uld  not  surprise  us. 

All  mythology  opens  with  demigods,  and  the  circumstance  is  high 
and  poetic;  that  is,  their  genesis  is  paramount.  In  the  legends 
of  the  Gautama,  the  first  man  ate  the  earth,  and  found  it  deli- 
ciously sweet.” 

There  is  in  all  of  us  a tendency  to  pursue  the  great  men; 

to  see  him,  if  we  can;  or,  if  he  be  dead,  or  unavailable,  then 

to  see  what  he  has  done — what  mark  of  his  presence  there  is  left 

on  art,  things,  men,  nations.  ”We  travel  into  foreign  parts  to 

find  his  works,”  Emerson  says;  and,  in  speaking  of  the  influence 

of  great  men,  adds:  "The  race  goes  with  us  on  their  credit,  ^he 

"Study  knowledge  that  in  the  city  is  a man  vAio  in- 

Great  Men" 

vented  the  railroad,  raises  the  credit  of  all 
the  citizens.”  Each  of  us  can  put  to  use  the  great  men  of  history. 
Studying  them  and  what  they  have  done  helps  us  to  understand  our- 
selves— aids  in  our  conduct  of  life.  If  we  would  have  the  most 
benefit  from  great  men,  we  should  not  go  to  see,  or  converse 
with,  those  whose  great  qualities  are  but  magnifications  of  our 
own  lesser  characteristics:  your  poet  should  know  the  greatest 
man  in  natural  science,  and  your  lawmaker  should  visit  the  poet 
in  his  home.  "Each  man  seeks  those  of  different  quality  from 
his  own,  and  such  as  are  good  of  their  kind;  that  is,  he  seeks 
other  men,  and  the  otherest , ” Emerson  says.  It  seems  that  he 
did  not  fully  live  up  to  this  standard  when  he  visited  Cole- 
ridge, Wordsworth,  Landor;  but  he  was  a younger  man  than  they, 
and  modest  enough  not  to  account  himself  as  a great  poet  or 


56 

writer  of  any  sort,  so  that  visiting  other  great  ooets  would  he 
a mste  of  time.  At  all  events,  these  greater  poets  (greater 
at  the  time,  at  least)  had  a salutary  effect:  ”The  stronger 
the  nature  the  more  it  is  reactive.  Let  us  have  the  equality 
pure.  A little  genius  let  us  leave  ^ong.'’ 

Of  the  benefits,  or  gifts,  obtainable  from  great  men,  there 

are  two  kinds — the  direct  and  the  indirect.  Emerson  says  that 

"Direct  giving  is  agreeable  to  the  early  belief  of  men;  direct 

"Education  Is  giving  of  material  or  metaphysical  aiid, 

Man ’ s ^n  f 0 iTTn g " 

as  of  health,  eternal  ^/outh,  fine  senses, 
arts  of  healing,  magical  power,  and  pro^ihecy.  The  boy  believes 
there  is  a teacher  who  can  sell  him  wisdom.  Churches  believe 
in  imputed  merit.  But,  in  strictness,  we  are  not  much  cognisant 
of  direct  serving.  Man  is  endogenous,  aid  education  is  his  un- 
folding. Gift  is  contrary  to  the  law  of  the  universe.  .Indirect 
service  is  left.  Men  have  a pictorial  or  representative  quality, 
and  serve  us  in  the  intellect." 

Having  these  things  in  mind,  then,  let  us  consider  the  men 
of  different  types  included  under  the  general  heading  of  "Repre- 
sentative Men,"  and  also  a few  others  concerning  whom  Bmerson  has 
written  essays,  and  which  I have  chosen  to  briefly  discuss  here, 
feeling  that  their  proper  place  is  in  this  connection.  What  are 
the  kinds  of  men  Emerson  likes?  Hear  him:  '*!  admire  great  men 
of  all  classes,  those  who  stand  for  facts,  and  for  thoughts;  I 
like  rough  and  smooth,  ’ Sourges  of  God,’  and  ’Darlings  of  the 
human  race.’  I like  the  first  Caesar:  and  Charles  V.,  of  Spain; 
and  Charles  XII.,  of  Sweden;  Richard  Rlantagenet;  and  Bonaparte, 


57 


"Masters  of  in  Prance.  I applaud  a sufficient  man.  an 

Men” 

officer  equal  to  his  office:  captains,  ministers, 
senators.  I like  a master  standing  firm  on  legs  of  iron,  well- 
bofn,  handsome,  rich,  eloquent,  loaded  with  advantages,  drawing 
all  men  by  fascination  into  tributaries  and  supporters  of  his 
power.  Sword  and  staff,  or  talents  sword-like  and  staff -like, 
carry  on  the  work  of  the  world.  But  I find  him  greater,  when 
he  can  abolish  himself,  and  all  heroes,  by  letting  iri  this 
element  of  reason,  irrespective  of  persons;  this  subtiliser, 
and  irresistible  upward  force,  into  our  thought,  destroying  in- 
dividualism; the  power  so  great,  that  the  potentate  is  nothing. 

Then  he  is  a monarch,  who  gives  a constitution  to  his  people; 
a pontiff,  who  preaches  the  equality  of  souls,  and  releases  his 
servants  from  their  barbarous  homages;  an  emperor,  who  can  spare 
his  empire." 

No  one  could  give  a higher  dompliment  to  Plato  than  Emer- 
son, when  he  said  "Among  books,  Plato  only  is  entitled  to  Omar’s 

Plato’ s fanatical  compliment  to  the  ^oran , when  he  said, 

Pla.ce 

'Burn  the  libraries,  for  their  value  is  in  this 
book.*  These  sentences  contain  the  culture  of  nations;  these  are 
the  corner-stone  of  schools;  these  are  the  fountain-head  of  liter- 
atures. A discipline  it  is  in  logic,  arithmetic,  taste,  symmetry, 
poetry,  language,  rhetoric,  ontology,  morals,  or  practical  wisdom. 
There  was  never  such  range  of  speculation.  Out  of  Plato  come 
all  things  that  are  still  written  and  debated  among  men  of  thought.' 
Emerson  tells  us  that  Plato  absorbed  the  learning  of  his  own  time, 
and  points  the  way  to  the  learning  of  today.  His  philosophical 
concepts  are  of  value  in  all  things  in  understanding  the  conduct 


58 

of  life.  "Philosophy  is  the  account  which  the  human  mind  pives 
to  itself  of  the  constitution  of  the  world,"  J^imerson  says:  and 
goes  on  to  show  how  all  this  is  included  in  Plato,  whom  he  has 

I 

f chosen  as  one  of  his  "Representative  ^en,"  styling  him  the  typical 

f 

1 

or  representative  philosopher,  wherein  "the  quality  is  pure""  Of 

value  to  the  human  in  learning  the  meaning  of  life  is  to  be  logical; 

"The  Great  and  who  could  do  better  than  to  study  Plato,  who, 

Ave’rage  i%n" 

Emerson  says,  was  as  definite  and  absolute  in 
his  logic  as  the  mathematician  in  reading  his  logarithmic  tables. 
Perhaps  Emerson  finds  the  greatest  value  in  Plato  when  he  says  that 
"He  is  a great  average  man;  one  who,  to  the  best  thinking,  adds 
a proportion  and  equality  in  his  faculties,  so  that  men  see  in 
him  their  own  dreams  and  glimpses  made  available,  and  made  to 
pass  for  what  they  are." 

I As  Plato  was  the  representative  philosopher,  so,  in  Emer- 

son^ s day,  was  Swedenborg  the  representative  mystic.  Undoubtedly 
such  a mind  as  Emerson’s,  imbued  with  idealism,  transcendentalism, 
would  perforce  be  attracted  to  such  thought  as  the  expressed  in 
Swedenborgianism;  and  so  we  find  him  saying  of  Emanuel  Sweden- 
borg; "A  colossal  soul,  he  lies  vast  abroad  on  his  times,  uncom- 
prehended by  them,  and  requires  a long  focal  .distance  to  be  seen; 

suggests,  as  Aristotle,  Bacon,  Selden,  Humboldt,  that  a certain 

S 

! Swedenborg  and  vastness  of  learning,  or  quasi  omnipresence 

Mysticism 

of  the  human  soul  in  nature,  is  possible," 

I Emerson  tells  us  of  the  youthful  training  of  the  man  who  was  some 
day  to  make  a great  and  lasting  mark  in  religion,  and  points  out 
i that  for  many  years  this  later  mystic  was  engaged  in  scientific 


studies  and  works  of  the  most  concrete  and  naturalistic  nature. 

V/hat  was  the  true  note  of  all  of  Swedenborg’s  knowledge  and 
practices*  Hear  Emerson;  "The  thoughts  in  which  he  lived  were, 
the  universality  of  each  law  in  nature;  the  Platonic  doctrine  of 
the  scale  or  degrees;  the  version  or  conversion  of  each  into  other, 
and  so  the  correspondence  of  all  the  parts;  the  fine  secret  that 
little  explains  large,  and  large,  little:  the  centrality  of  man 

in  nature,  and  the  connection  that  subsists  throughout  all  things: 
he  saw  that  the  human  body  was  strictly  universal,  or  an  instru- 
ment through  which  the  soul  feeds  and  is  fed  by  the  whole  of 
matter;  so  that  he  held,  in  exact  antagonism  to  the  sceptics, 
that,  'the  wiser  a man  ;’s,  the  more  will  he  be  a worshipper  of 
the  I^eity.'"  But  Swedenborg,  Emerson  hastens  to  point  out,  was 

"See  God  in  not  always  interested  in  the  miraculous  as- 

Nature^ 

pects  of  God’s  omnipresence;  this  mystic 
felt  that  it  was  as  great  a call  to  man  to  see  God  in  nature  as 
in  miracles.  Nature  aQ d not  super-nature  was  his  idea.  Emerson 
says  that  "To  a right  perception,  at  once  broad  and  minute,  of 
the  order  of  nature,  he  added  the  comprehension  of  the  moral 
laws  in  their  widest  social  spects;  but  whatever  he  saw,  through 
some  excessive  determination  to  form,  in  his  constitution,  he  saw 
not  abstractly,  but  in  pictures,  heard  it  in  dialogues,  constructed 
it  in  events.  When  he  attempted  to  announce  the  law  most  sanely, 
he  was  forced  to  couch  it  in  parable."  The  benefit  we  dative,  then, 
in  using  this  great  and  representative  man,  is  obtained  from  his 
hiimanity  and  his  action  in  relating  things; — Mthout  which  know- 
ledge or  belief  is  useless. 


; ■ tt  ' ■ w '-■’ 

■ ' ■ 1 , . ’’.Y-W  ls?!S 


U -J.  '■■,  /jfc^V.' ■!  . ':-4. _Hvy^XMi‘ 

F jpr-.a‘''.  ’'•  '■  • ; ^''  ■ .'  :,'^-v  •■>  ' H ' 1 A . 

y r :_  ■.  •■■'■.■"  I ^ ^.“’  ■ ^It^','  V -;W.“  •«'  .,..  .•'^,-  ‘*. '.*^;  v ,..  / " 'iT''^'*  ■ '3 

p l'  ••/,  ?T''.  !>(•: ; tdsi 

■k'  T ' ».r  ‘ . ."  < '•  ^ ''•nwiir_  •.  '^'a3 


»•  I 


-••».  ;-  ■•■  ..  ■ . . - -i'A  ‘ "“i 


^ . r VJ« 


>-  /.  : 

' i - ■:.  /•  „v:  '.■-C'''-v?  , ■‘^'' ’’^'S  . ' . ^ *'' 

^ ,f  .•  • ,.S,J  ■ V.  T-JO  ■'  V . ( /!fl  /Tf'W  vy.5  ft?ise  * . 

, ■•:  /V.  . »r  f.‘>  %V"*  -'V;? « '■  k4jnS'i^id: 

t ^ ■'  -.  «®o*' ,.  f-  u:^*  '■ 

r IK.*  - ■yj-y-  ‘ f ' ' V ' 


-:^v  : ', 


Fo?‘ 


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•;^  * , *»  *^‘/  -:r*  ' Xi  * ..  V 

\fiMl 


K*^  - At  . 


«:>....  ;lw!,.f! 


60 

Turning  from  a man  who  was  representative  of  al  1 that  was 

implied  in  faith,  Swedenborg,  Emerson  takes  up  Montaigne,  whom  he 

What  Is  a styles  "The  Sceptic."  What  is  a true  sceptic? 

True  S^e^tic? 

“ And  what  is  his  use-  Emerson  ^ives  his  opin- 

ion thus:  "This,  then,  is  the  right  ground  of  the  sceptic , --this 
of  condideration , of  self-containing;  not  at  all o f unbelief;  not 
at  all  of  universal  denying,  nor  of  universal  doubting— doubting 
even  that  he  doubts;  least  of  all,  of  scoffing  and  profligate 
jeering  at  all  that  is  stable  and  good."  At  some  time  or  other 
in  our  lives,  we  are  sure  to  be  sceptics,  Emerson  feels;  and  he 
indicates  it  as  follows:  "But  though  we  are  natural  conservers 

and  causationists , and  reject  a sour,  dumpish  unbelief,  the 
scent ical  class,  which  Montaigne  represents,  have  reason,  and 
every  man,  at  some  time,  belongs  to  it.  Every  superior  mind 
will  pass  through  this  domain  of  equilibration — I should  rather 
say,  will  know  how  to  avail  himself  of  the  checks  and  balances 
in  nature,  as  a natural  weapon  against  the  exaggeration  and  formal- 
ism of  bigots  and  blockheads."  We  see  here  the  value  of  the 
sceptic  and  of  some  of  the  sceotical  attitude  to  us:  It  enables 
us  to  avoid  the  danger  of  being  led  by  absolutely  blind  faith, 
without  use  of  that  intellect  which  is  God-given  and  should  guide 
us . 

No  one,  probably , will  disoute  Emerson’s  choice  of  Shakes- 
peare as  the  representative  poet.  True,  Homer  is  often  so-called; 
but  Homer  is  not  only  of  an  entirely  different  class,  but  also 
his  work  more  nearly  resembles  a written  collection  of  the  Norse 
sages  and  folk-tales  than  it  does  pure  poetry,  as  Shakespeare’s 


6l 


is.  Emerson  did  not  like  many  things  Shakespeare  said.  He  felt 

that  some  of  the  freedom  of  the  greatest  of  the  poets,  running 

into  a grossness  that  was  unknown  in  the  Elizabethan  era,  might 

Shakespeare’s  with  value  have  been  omitted;  y©t  he  real— 

Claim  to  '^lory 

ized  that  Shakespeare’s  claim  to  glory  is 

based  on  nothing  but  truth;  and  the  reason  for  his  almost  il- 
limitable success  is  his  humanity:  "Other  men  say  wise  thinp-s 

as  well  as  he;  only  they  say  a good  many  foolish  things,  and  do 
not  know  when  they  have  spoken  wisely,  i^e  knows  the  sparkle  of 
the  true  stone,  and  puts  it  in  high  place,  wherever  he  finds, it. 
He  borrows  very  near  home."  This  is  what  we  mi^t  expect  of  the 
English  poet,  as  we  have  seen  heretofore,  where  Emerson  describes 
the  British  bard  as  oicking  out  for  his  subjects  the  familiar, 
homely  objects.  That  the  world  was  tardy  in  recognising  the 
Olympian  grandeur  of  Shakespeare  was  certain  to  be  the  case; 

"Our  poet’s  mask  was  impenetrable.  You  cannot  see  the  mountain 

near.  It  took  a century  to  make  it  suspected;  and  not  until  two 

centuries  had  passed,  after  his  death,  did  any  criticism  which 
we  think  adequate  begin  to  appear."  Emerson  felt  that  those 
critics  who  judge  Shakespeare  as  dramatist  only,  fail  to  give  him 
his  due;  and  Emerson’s  whole  concept  of  ‘Shakespeare  is  contained 
Eulogy  of  in  these  lines:  "He  wrote  the  airs  for  all  our 

modem  music;  he  wrote  the  text  of  modern  life; 
the  text  of  manners;  he  drew  the  man  of  England  and  Europe;  the 
father  of  the  man  in  America;  he  drew  the  man,  and  described  the 
day,  and  what  is  done  in  it;  he  read  the  hearts  of  men  and  women, 
their  probity,  and  their  second  thought,  and  wiles;  the  wiles  of 


~~>9 

**CoV  ■ri' U;pW., 

t •:  > P 


C'JW 


■|  V 


?{  '»».v.-  , , ■ '^1  ■■  »•  <^ii  ' .'^ 

I ,^Vl-  ITU-:  1c 

[ ' ■'Ta!(  ' .'"'  'ft:'\'^  i'  ft .<■  -.  ^ A _ 


p'ffe 


. , , • .,;  , ,.;:p:^•>'■^^:^3YfC.?^  . .■ 

• • •^•.  ^*»*’  '?■  ****?'^*^^r*'**' 

^ ^ ■ ''m  A.  ■ >/  ■ \ ' " ‘ 

. . . ; . ..  .:_• ._  . _ ■ ■ _ ■ : ; . ■ <- ^ f^.. 


“•  V/  ■■  ' ' ' ',,'X>  ' ■ ■ 

T^.  , '/<iX 

fc  < ' i"  ' *■  I ’*V'  \r  V'W  ■#■'  ' » •' 

Ir...  I'U’T  i,iij,-:'u.-tOir.-,  rtt  Sj;tW  »4^ 

^.-  j ■ i • ^'?  li'  ' ;,'^vti  y .-  ^ / .'ll'  ' ’ ;^**-*4^ 


't' 'n-'j  ‘i/^T  kkv- ' •SiT.  6^'km  ’^oi  '^* 

•■  '.  •-.  I . • '^  -.'  ji.-jr'li  ■••■ ' . s*.i  '■.■■-•  w’j(  ■■" 

*»"J  4od.(itbf 


’''pi 


’ ti‘-l  1 ^ / f ff/vit  i t'  , ti  b 10,^  j)f 

j|*’  . 

et  4,h.  c ^ . 4 • :.  , ■•/, ! Tcy  ♦ rWit  " 0*m  J 

v’^.'  - ^ rN'ay',?^-  •■  'VjSli  iiSSb^>^  j 

A*  ' .r.  ''-A'i'''  •(■.'  ■<'*^.{<  ■!  '.'4 


62 


innocence,  and  the  transitions  by  which  virtues  and  vices  slide 
into  their  contraries;  he  could  divide  the  mother’s  part  from  the 
father’s  part  in  the  face  of  the  child,  or  draw  the  fine  demarca- 
tions of  freedom  and  of  fate:  he  knew  the  laws  of  repression  which 
make  the  poliee  of  nature:  and  all  the  sweets  and  all  the  terrors 
of  human  lot  lay  in  his  mind  as  truly  but  as  softly  as  the  land- 
scape lies  on  the  eye,  And  the  importance  of  this  wisdom  of  life 
sinks  the  form,  ai§  of  Drama  or  i^pic,  out  of  notice.  ’Tis  like 
making  a question  concerning  the  paper  on  which  a king’s  message 


is  w ritten. " 


One’s  Own  History 
in  liapoleon 


Although  Napoleon,  whom  Emerson  selects  as  the  representa- 
tive "man  of  the  World”  ”is  no  hero,  in  the  high  sense,”  and  ”no 

capuchin" , to  use  his  own  words  for  denying 
any  claim  to  saintliness,  Emerson  tells  us 
at  once  that  "Every  one  of  the  million  readers  of  anecdotes  or 
memoirs,  or  lives  of  Napoleon,  delights  in  the  page,  because  he 
studies  in  it  his  own  history."  We  are  all  prone,  when  reading 
of  the  deeds  of  some  character  noted  in  history,  to  say  to  our- 
selves, Why,  this  man  thinks  the  same  things  I do’.”  And  it  is 
not  at  all  difficult  to  understand  that  "Bonaparte  was  the  idol 
of  common  men,  because  he  had  in  transcendent  degree  the  Quali- 
ties and  powers  of  common  men."  Napoleon,  Emerson  tells  us,  was 
"actually  a monopoliser  and  usurper  of  other  minds."  All  the 


great  achievements  of  Napoleon  were  accomplished  because  he 
cared  for  nothing  but  success,  i^e  was  not  to  be  stopped  by  any- 
thing: "Napoleon  renounced,  once  for  all,  sentiments  and  affect- 
tions,  and  would  help  himself  with  his  hands  and  his  head.  With 


63 


him  is  no  mtracle , and  no  magic.  He  is  a worker  in  brass,  in 
iron,  in  wood,  in  earth,  in  roads,  in  buildings,  in  money,  and 
in  troops,  and  a very  consistent  and  v/ise  master-workman."  Emer- 
son speaks  of  Hapoleon  as  being  the  "pattern  democrat"  to  which 
is  due  the  fact  that  he  is  the  idol  and  ideal  of  the  average  man. 

"Goethe;  or,  the  Writer,"  is  a chapter  in  "Representative 
Men"  \»sherein  Emerson  tells  us  that  he  finds" 
a provision,  in  the  constitution  of  the  world. 


"Goethe,  the 
Secretary"’ 


for  the  writer  or  secretary,  who  is  to  report  the  doings  of  the 
miraculous  spirit  of  life  that  everywhere  throbs  and  works.  His 
office  is  a reception  of  the  facts  into  the  mind,  and  then  a 
selection  of  the  eminent  and  characteristic  experiences."  He 
tells  us,  further,  that  "society  has  really  no  graver  interest 
than  the  well-being  of  the  literary  class.  And  it  is  not  to  be 
denied  that  men  are  cordial  in  their  recognition  and  welcome  of 
intellectual  accomplishments."  As  he  chose  Hapoleon  as  the  re- 
presentative "man  of  the  world",  then  Goethe  is  chosen  by  Emer- 
son as  the  representative  of  the  other  half  of  the  "popular  ex- 
ternal life  and  aims  of  the  nineteenth  century." 
He  tells  us  that  among  the  lists  of  literary 


A Literary 
S’enius 


geniuses  of  the  age  there  is  no  name  greater  than  that  of  Goethe, 
to  "represent  the  pov/ers  and  duties  of  the  scholar  or  writer." 

Such  a high  estimate  as  this  of  the  great  German  poet -writer  is 
upheld  further,  where  Emerson  says  that  "The ’Helena’  or  the  second 
part  of  ’Faust’  is  a philosophy  of  li<|erature  set  in  poetry." 


Very  probably,  Emerson’s  walks  to  Walden  often  made  him 
the  more  or  less  chance  meeter  of  Thoreau,  that  almost  inaccessible 


. 'f . 


ti%  . -S'.. 4 -\i,;  ^1^,:.  % ^'«-:l^  *1;  wl' »fit« 

IF  » PWJT  J ' '*>  r ^ ' ■'  ' ■■■  I ‘ "' ■'^  , •'  ' -^1^" 

^ * ■ • -■'  ■ ''  '•  • ' '^./  ‘ ' ,>'  1'  ■ * '>  ’)^  , .-1^ 


i# 


itL*^  - i "I" ’'>■■■  t'  ..  'I  .■'•  V V <^1 

I ^ >0  . -T  :'t\ ' ,tj  1$  ' ,1‘6^;.  .‘siCj* 


■*:  >■  ■ 


''19' 

^1  . \'“ 


/ ,,i  I'V  ■ * j 

r >,  , » ' i-'  ■ ■■■  ■’"’■■■  ■ ’ 

» ‘!<  %;r  . *' 


, |i-  ’’ ..  «t  ■ ^ ‘ ■ ' ^'  f -'^n  ^ "'i  ■ '’ 

•'■■-1  •*Vtrl'V 

.*'  ‘.  ‘ ’,'  >v»  . •*  '»» 


'i  •.4,y‘?Vi'.:(u  ...■?x^i^'>-!f-*, >‘i*n-;5i»S'#t I i#.r  .«%»  .tstfwrr  .-jiWrUSiiaf 

■"  ■■ -^  ' ■■  '•■■■•'■■  '''^■>'.+,.a>  ' -ftf 

|._»'-w  ir<!e!j^A-»i  ,)t»  ■•(  ■ ;-.i;;i(<;ii', 

■%,  ''-,  ■ > . '®,’  ■.,  ’’‘.w^-,’"^  •V'llli^'  i '''^ifi,  ;•'  'V/  ' ■ -' 


;.,  . V'"-  ‘ ' ' ' "" 


64 


recluse  whose  delight  in  nature,  if  for  a somewhat  different 

reason,  was  as  great  a s Emerson’s.  Their  different  appreciation 

Emerson  and  of  nature,  it  might  be  said,  is  ohe  of  kind, 

Thoreau 

and  not  of  extent,  because  the  naturalist 
Thoreau,  claiming  that  the  could  tell  what  day  it  was  if  suddenly 
wakened  in  the  woods  from  a trance,  by  studying  the  plants  about 
him,  is  as  thoroughly  an  examplar  of  the  belief  in  the  Idea,  that 
permeates  and  yet  antedates  all  material  manifestations  of  the 
visible  world,  as  is  Emerson,  whose  Nature  is  more  abstract. 

In  his  terse,  epigrammatic  manner,  Emerson  describes  for  us 
this  strangely  unmodern  man,  Thoreau,  We  gain  as  accurate  a pic- 
ture of  the  inner  man  from  the  essay  on  Thoreau  as  a ohotograoh 
would  give  us  of  the  fleshly  man.  Emerson  tells  us,  in  a passage 
describing  the  spirit  of  Thoreau,  that  "There  was  somewhat  mili- 
tary in  his  nature,  not  to  be  subclued,  always  manly  and  able, 
but  rarely  tender,  as  if  he  did  not  feel  himself  except  in  op- 
position. He  wanted  a fallacy  to  expose,  a blunder  to  pillory, 

I may  say  required  a little  sense  of  victory,  a roll  of  the  drum, 
to  call  his  powers  into  full  exercise.  It  cost  him  nothing  to 
say  No;  indeed,  he  found  it  much  easier  than  to  say  Yes.” 

It  is,  perhaps,  a far  cry  from  the  New  England  idealist- 
individualist  to  the  writer  of  ’Paradise  Lost’;  yet  Emerson 
understood,  interpreted,  and  valued  the  blind  poet  of  Cromwell’s 
secretariat.  The  two  were  certainly  far  a part  in  the  ways  in 
which  they  expressed  their  faith  in  the  Haling  Force  of  the 
universe,  yet  Emerson  is  delighted  to  mark  the  fact  that  Milton’s 
fame  is  changing  and  growing,  and  "is  not  rigid  and  stony  like 


1‘  il 


■« 


la  ■ 


4 


' / 


/i  ■ 


'5  ■ 

i 


65 

Milton^ s Fame  his  bust.”  He  points  out  that  ”as  a man's 

T^o  Grow 

fame,  of  course,  characterises  those  v/ho 
give  it,  as  much  as  him  who  received  it,  the  nev;  criticism  in- 
dicated a change  in  the  public  taste,  and  a change  which  the  poet 
himself  might  claim  to  have  wrought.”  What  is  it  in  Milton, 
newly  discovered,  vhich  is  making  him  greater  than  ever?  Emerson 
tells  us  that  "he  kindles  a love  and  emulation  in  us  which  he 
did  not  in  foregoing  generations;”  and  he  believes  that  now  Mil- 
ton's fame  is  sure  to  grow  and  to  be  secure. 

Hardly  a pleasing  characterisation  of  Vi/alter  Savage  handor 
is  given  us  in  the  following  passage;  "In  Mr.  -Candor's  coarse- 
ness there  is  a certain  air  of  defiance,  and  the  rude  word  seems 
sometimes  to  arise  from  a disgust  at  niceness  and  over-refinement. 
Before  a well-dressed  company  he  plunges  his  fingers  in  a cess- 
pool, as  if  to  expose  the  whiteness  of  his  hands  and  the  jewels 
of  his  ring.  Afterward,  he  washes  them  in  M\dne:  but  you  are  never 
secure  from  his  freaks."  V^e  are  but  little  reassured,  however, 
when  Emerson  goes  on  to  say  that  Landor  is  "A  sort  of  Earl  Peter- 

Lan dor's  Blunt  borough  in  literature,  his  eccentricity  is 

Assertiveness 

too  decided  not  to  have  diminished  his  great- 
ness. He  has  capital  enough  to  have  furnished  the  brain  of  fiffy 
- stock  authors,  yet  has  written  no  good  book."  Emerson  seesm  to 
value  Candor's  blunt  assertiveness  which  reaches  almost  to  a dis- 
regard for  others'  opinions  which  is  unsocial  and  uncivil,  for  he 
days:  "What  he  says  of  Wordsworth  is  true  of  himself,  that  he 
delights  to  throw  a clod  of  dirt  on  the  table  and  cry  "Gentlemen, 
there  is  a better  man  than  all  of  you."  However,  a better  picture 


66 

of  the  man  is  given  us  in  this  passage,  and  we  come  to  see  his 

finer  points:  "But  we  have  spoken  all  our  discontent.  Possibly 

his  writings  are  open  to  harsher  censure;  but  we  love  the  man, 

from  sympathy  as  well  as  for  reasons  to  be  assigned;  and  have 

no  wish,  if  we  were  able,  to  put  an  argument  in  the  mouth  of  his 

critics,  Now  for  twenty  years  we  have  still  found  the  Imagin ary 

"The  Rich  and  Conversations  a sure  resource  in  solitude. 

Ample  -t?age 

and  it  seems  to  us  as  original  in  its  form 
as  in  its  matter.  Nay,  when  we  remember  his  rich  and  an  pie  page, 
wherein  we  are  always  sure  to  find  free  and  sustained  thought,  a 
keen  and  precise  understanding,  an  affluent  and  ready  memory 
familiar  with  all  chosen  books,  an  industrious  observation  in 
every  department  of  life,  an  experience  to  which  nothing  has 
occurred  in  vain,  honour  for  every  ,1ust  and  generous  sentiment 
and  a scourge  like  that  of  Furies  for  every  oppressor,  whether 
public  or  private,  we  feel  how  dignified  is  this  oerpetual  Censor 
in  his  curule  chair,  and  v;e  v;ish  to  thank  a benefactor  of  the 
reading  world." 

To  discuss  Michael  -t^ngelo , the  sculptor  who  felt  that  a 

knowledge  of  anatomy  is  essential  for  him  who  carves  in  marble, 

in  order  that  he  may  depict  the  more  faithfully  the  intricacies 

of  detail  of  the  surface,  is  a fit  task  for  a man  who  went  into 

The  Statue  and  solitude  to  study  the  anatomy  of  nature. 

The  Ussay 

in  order  that  he  might  later  chisel  out  his 
detailed  sentences  setting  forth  every  lineament  of  the  v/hole; 
and  so  Emerson  we  find  to  be  an  apt  hand  at  portraying  the  spirit 
and  work  of  the  great  Italian  artist.  It  is  needless,  perhpps. 


67 

to  go  into  detail  in  picking  out  the  points  in  the  description 
and  exposition  of  Emerson  in  dealing  with  this  sub.ieot;  suffice 
it  to  quote  the  following:  "Above  all  men  whose  history  we  know, 
Michael  Angelo  presents  us  with  the  perfect  image  of  the  artist. 

He  is  an  eminent  master  in  the  four  fine  arts.  Painting,  Sculpture, 
Architecture,  and  Poetry." 


-0- 


&y  YJvv3£4*  »«^nw  ax  a/ j^aiwnixjrT  «'n.4r  9J^ow|t  cj<'^.ts 

•' ' 'i-f  *♦  .'^  ,' ' /.  •>  ■ , '•  . ' ■ ‘ , ,','p'  . • ’*  '.  I*!'] 

■«  ■ , *g.X<)‘»za  ‘ t-c- ’fi34a{>-^  H lltfT  en  ©X»r,fi^‘<f€i4li^e  tM« 

■ v'  J 

M ’*•••  ■■  '-•^lB_  '.  v^-viSP^  A^,:  ' 


fSi 


'*  <(L  ,: 


%ifK  ;r,j 


: "l! 


^ '"T'  'v  i./»:.^'<-iV'  ■ ■ ■ ,. 


Lj-  '. 


n .^:i, 

J -.in. 


•'”*  '-‘X  ■ ■ • ' '.  '.  r»''  ^'"^Pll 


'X 


A-*  r** 


i ; 

v‘  '^^  • '\]  •'■ 

» * ^...  ■ I* 

“!  ■_'«*>  V 


K'i 


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* 


m 


yryr  Ertar!*-!' lr> jto* 


14 


v‘  V ’ .CfXI 


68 

Chapter  VI 


Essays,  Political  and  Social 

-0- 

Emerson,  in  his  essays,  did  not  deal  alone  with  literary 

and  other  men  whom  he  considered  representative;  he  turns  with 

facility  from  the  discussion  of  the  specific  to  interpretation 

of  the  general;  and  the  essays  considered  in  the  following  chapter 

take  up  a vast  variety  of  phases  of  human  conduct,  viewed  from 

The  Essay  and  many  angles.  Throughout,  we  find  the  in- 

THe”  Man  _ 

terpretation  colored  with  Emerson’s  strong 

personality,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  is  sometimes  said  that 
he  stripped  his  essays  of  personality.  This,  it  WDUld  seem,  is 
not  wholly  true;  and  it  would  he  regrettable,  perhaps,  if  it 
were.  No  man  can  write  or  speak  of  the  great  truths  of  life  im- 
partially. To  attempt  to  do  so  would  be  to  deprive  a field 
pregnant  with  possibilities  of  the  warmth  of  an  interpretation 
as  richly  human  as  Emerson’s. 

"To  a sound  judgment,"  he  says,  "the  most  abstract  truth 
is  the  most  practical;"  and  we  find  throughout  his  writings 
evidences  of  his  belief  in  this  statement,  which  here  appears  in 
its  most  axiomatic  form.  He  who  searches  ever  more  for  the  prac- 
tical, in  man  or  the  larger  Nature,  this  transcendentalist  wuuld 
have  us  understand,  is  likely  to  lose  sight  of  the  fact  which  to 
him  was  self-evident;  that  the  Idea  is  all,  for  it  is  the  ul- 
timate thing,  philosophically  considered.  Not  that  is  ultimate 

Nature  and  which  is  arrived  at  last,  as  the  conclusion  in 

TEe  'Sour" 

an  argument;  but  that  which  is  ultimate  is  the 


i'  V>  . •iVi'-r‘.-;  .>-‘  -iil 

• ' ■ "•;"■?  ■ ‘ '■  , . 

•'  - ' Y . .,  u.--  ''•"■■.  . ^ ^ ■ 

‘■ft'  ■ '^  ''••  j;-  i'j  f?-  Y 0{(  tflr  ; 'Y'-  C^,C  TX^tfd’t'  •' 

k/,.  . , . '''i  "I  '^--■■-1  ' y’ 

,nc.*  •*  ''  \-.  :y  r j",  ^ ^ ^iTJli::' 


Y yu^v^orf'^**  *“■  ;^  Iff  ■ f>/-r  Y 


; .•'  ' » T-  . --‘■•wr'  ■'  • t V' 

r > ,. 

■ yit  [•'.■!'■;  ..TGr;K.i 

V't'T’^::  f- ’ Y •' •■i"i  .-.f-';-  - tw/i'  !«'  c 'r?f»  ( ; ■■!'  ,•*'. 

, f I*  l'  • ' A * « , ' ' 

i.  , . 


‘ V' 


:,'j  '•‘i)  ' i . ' 

.«•  / ' ' . '■'  » v"- 

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„X..  i'  X*-v.'  r,il<r- 


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'■  y ::«.  oJ'  •>■(•  fU;; u».*  t^h . oix' ,^,jU’Ai-:-nct- 
- ’■•.■'■■'  . ■ ,,.^  • , 

',-  ? f'-f  : f-jif V trXi  <‘'X4r.  A 

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;,  .-  'i:c^'7vy:^  . •%,  Ji£  T 

."•  ' vm  ■ - . 

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* 'I  t . . . ' - „.  ' ■ 

A»  '•  ' V lis^)  :.n'' A 


w/  f- 


; IJa^r  o i-cor^  . oi**:?  h ii  ,f 


^ ■ . <4  i,,  „i  . V.' 

..v.f.QJ''  ;'r.  / ^'.':  ^ / Y»;- i . t" ..jG ■;’  :.l  f:jrji,i  ,'^4' 1 XocC' .viri  "to 


‘J"  ■'•'C','!  Tf'Vfl  ):; (.■:>♦.  , ••-'.'1  xii  &^vi\ 


ft  r ’ ' ■ ■■  • ' ■'  . ^ i"''  . 

.■^L  A .•  .-  ‘ T.-'  d>X  • « *i'0-  -a^  . . J-  , Tco  h^'A 

' ■’  '■■  .!!  Yv  '■  " ' Y ■,*,'  ' J 

0-  .!.t'va'  ' I\..r,j  7. -.  h i\  . ^-.l  /r,  ' ...y  .'x&X'^iilf  . 

• ' , '■  ' ' , . , 1,  . .;  ' '*  '-  .,  ■'''■  t '’y.' 

/■  ”'■■  . - -i-  ■'  KiiU'  rlcfl 

^■-'r  Xts  v i Yi.f^V'cV  . ■••  ::<;•>  :T 


» 


ps:  -;-f  l.'S'i  fii,  ^-v-rfv  .f.  rfJ  '^.'c:  ; : 


f'd?  (i'ijr,fa( 

■“TaT.'E": 


; wrr,- 

L. 


* fir 


ri.7lYY/;„t-  ; ' ' i ■ 


69 

primary  oausation,  that  point  back  of  vhich  we  can  not  attain. 
Emerson  says  that  "Philosophically  considered,  the  universe  is 
composed  of  Nature  and  the  Soul.  Strictly  speaking,  therefore,, 
all  that  is  separate  from  us,  all  which  Philosophy  distinguishes 
as  the  NOT  ME,  that  is,  both  nature  and  art,  ^1  other  men  and 
my  own  body,  must  be  ranked  under  this  name,  NATURE.  In  enumer- 
ating the  values  of  nature  and  casting  up  their  sum.  I shall  use 
the  word  in  both  senses — in  its  common  and  in  its  philosophical 
import.  In  inquiries  so  general  as  our  present  one,  the  inaccur- 
acy is  not  material;  no  confusion  of  thought  will  occur.  Nature , 
in  the  common  sense,  refers  to  e ssences  unchanged  by  man;  space, 
the  air,  the  river,  the  leaf.  Art  is  applied  to  the  mixture  of 
his  will  with  the  same  things,  as  in  a house,  a canal,  a statue, 
a picture.  But  his  operations  taken  together  are  so  insignifi- 
cant, a little  chipping,  baking,  patching,  and  washing,  that  in 
an  impression  so  grand  as  that  of  the  world  on  the  human  mind, 
they  do  not  vary  the  result." 

How  is  a man  to  regard  nature,  if  he  would  understand  it 

best?  Whether  one  consider  nature  in  common  or  the  philosophical 

How  Understand  sense,  it  is  essential  that  nature  be  con- 

Nature  ? 

sidered  in  such  a wa.y  that  the  highest 
understanding  of  facts  and  processes  is  attained.  A man  can  not 
do  his  best  thinking  in  a crowd,  or  where  his  attention  is  likely 
to  be  drawn  by  those  around  him;  he  must  go  into  solitude  to  study 
nature  in  either  of  the  two  larger  senses — and  solitude  is  not 
always  found  in  his  study,  however  much  this  retreat  may  be  left 
unvisited  by  other  men,  because  in  his  study  there  are  books  to 


\y. 


■r  -r..  -IS-k. 


■ ■■  - vi.: 


'.•  I* 


1' 


ii 


* , 

i.  t: 

I 


'..  ;L’  v(  - ■ 


■ 


"N-  ’ 


•T  ■•:-•■»  ? » 


f '' .. 


i ; 


» t. 


i.  V,  "-Ai 

' r-*.’'  !►  '■'■  ■ ' 


"•  i 


■r./ 


I 


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■'/■■  '•*'■  ■ ■;  M'  ,1  ■ 

i*  ' ' 

' 1,,  •*  O''  •‘•I  ,■  ' • , . , 1 . 1 . r M' 

• »-  ■ S'  ■ ' t,'  .1  u / - I _ , 

• i‘i  ■ •'■ 

' V , 

•\ 


i:  1 


V, ' 'f.  V,  ' 


• f- : 


f, 


V .„f  . , 


f: 


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I » 


•Me. 


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r ' VV  , 


I ' 


'.  r.C7?,&Mv 


.iT- 


':  r'' 


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•>  < - »«  * «iNi«yk 

--t 

... , . . , 


■■  -f 


y*  I 


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y ^ , '' 


" ■ / ' 


,r  *■ . 


: < 


' ' ‘f'-J  ' *'  flw4 

■'  ■ ..>'*?■'!' JS. 


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X- 


r . ... 

X* 


r':‘> 


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jSSJ 


f 


i 

h 


70 


read,  there  is  the  temptation  to  study,  to  write--" But  if  a man 

sould  be  alone,  let  him  look  at  the  stars."  It  was  in  pursuance 

of  that  idea  that  Emerson  so  frequently  left  the  study  in  his 

home,  and  went  strolling  through  the  woods;  or,  at  V^alden,  one 

of  his  favorite  retreats,  sat  him  down  to  think. 

In  his  essay  on  Nature,  Emerson  points  out  that  all  of  the 

wide  world  is  ours  to  enjoy:  "Miller  owns  this  field,  Locke  that, 

I The  Poet  and  and  Manning  the  woodland  beyond.  But  none  of 

I Natu  re 

I them  owns  the  landscape.  There  is  a property 

in  the  horiaon  which  no  man  has  but  he  whose  eye  can  integrate 
all  the  parts,  that  is,  the  poet.  This  is  the  best  part  of  these 
men’s  farms,  yet  to  this  their  warranty  deeds  give  no  title." 

It  would  seem  that  Emerson  is  at  one  with  Wordsworth  when 
he  says:  "To  speak  truly,  few  adult  persons  can  see  nature." 
j Truly,  the  Rydal  Mount  sage  and  mystic  goes  no  farther  in  his 

I 

i "Ode  on  Intimations  of  Immortality"  than  Emerson,  when  he  says: 

i 

' "The  lover  of  nature  is  he  whose  inward  and  outward  senses  are 

I still  truly  adjusted  to  each  other;  who  has  retained  the  spirit 

! of  infancy  even  into  the  era  of  manhood,"  and  further,  this:  "The 

"Go  into  the  sun  illuminates  only  the  eye  of  the  man, 

W o^dF’  _ . _ , „ , , 

but  shines  into  the  eye  and  the  heart  ox  the 

child."  If  one  would  enjoy  and  understand  nature  to  the  utmost, 

he  must  have  this  childlike  power;  and  Emerson  says  that  all  of 

us  can  wield  it,  if  we  go  into  the  woods;  "In  the  woods,  too,  a 

man  casts  off  his  years,  as  the  snake  his  slough,  and  at  what 

period  soever  of  life,  is  always  a child." 

In  discussing  Nature  as  Commodity,  Emerson  points  out  that 


I'"  - ^ '*  ••  > . ','  .rs /i^C-  Cl--  .JjJtr 

■'  * na,-.'j4«;;(f  r.f  eav;  Ji  ,,-,jy  x-j  aco.i:  ."It*  -'  - , -oj-a  j 

V t iVc  /ic  ^ t>.ri  f v.*;  jt.*“  To 

. ®*-*  t . • , • ; viC 


'( 


j *.  1 • , Wo-'-Lv  ^ . ; 


fL-^  jj u-i- _ ; t <•? ‘V-  £> 

,.  [.ftlT^  v’'  ^ f5T;'>'i  ;rU.'.C  .fi-  'faiBt/f'  T< 

,c.  ■ ..i' '.  ' /J 


/ . 


I 


M ■ ;.:■  ■;  ;'■  * . ,.  ^I'ti: 


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= •■  .->  .li  :ro-.V'  r,'  ;;‘*  no  i.- i M*f<.  ??’ 

.,>5*‘-' 

3«*:..>0o-  ' 


'^to  'fi  I „it.i  ^-na-  hf,Itf..v.y-.®  ■ 

■ ^ - ,‘.4  ■ 


t*S  f 


;■' Qi>:>Ei' •■' )5i  ‘ Qif  t -;0  n-'idt'' , 

'"  ■■  ' ';  . o>;  >,a^yr4  . ^ c i-xVrf  i;. 


'> . 


• ii..  1 ■v.itfi  , . . j •&S 

, ....  ■ . , ...  ■ ,.‘€  vK^  ■■%::,'■  1 

.-n  »■>  V . ■ Ziff  tt, 


■••■■  ' '<  i'--'-«.-,^i;Ij,*  c ..  at  i;{f  mifi>  dajrfj  -b  : Ml/Ov/  • 

'.  • P*»m  aai>.!-'ipc  tf  :■*.•:•;>  '.'tX :^;:«-3»  'o!r^' :'S\... 

*■  • ‘ . " ‘ 1 ^ . ' '’ 

.••?•  uu  J&cwe.  «fc»  .'A'  1‘Ab'^h' 

- ^ ' ' ■/  ■'*  ''  *’■■■'  '•'  r-  ■ ■ - ■ ' ■ 

• •'*"’  \ , •■  ■'"■•  ■ -•.  ^ ockiA '.  *. 4* snl  hhfi  ^ 

-•  ^^.;r.V'Va  - ■ ■ ■ . ^ '1 


, Cm.  ' n'i.iX-^jrc  : ....  tri .3 « ft ^ . - J el  ‘.\  ‘ait; ^^oI  u^t^: 

'JJ 


. ..  f o.  .“* 


ttit'j 


--  —9^'-  ■'-^  ‘ v?Xjrf,V^'rXXX.  ' .,- 

r • i , , 

I '!».  , . ^-7  ;.  i:  c 


f»rf.y  r C'[ 


■iXaJ  ^ -.C . 'V^^..'  o*IO,u;iM  h I'T-.  [!'  ■ f JIf  fii 


•*  ^ <1  C^;' I i',r 


is.’fc';-  ALlbll/'*  A^^ ^Ujcrm 

■ - M , 


’C 

-,f- 


; t 


: • •■■ »'  '•>.  '.-X  » ^n-*: 

.-t* 

v - i , ' fX’TiV' 

' s*.' " ;>-■  < ■■  ■ ^ 

e : .-;;  -y:  > c e-’ 

V *" ' * * ^ ^ ' ■ ^ ' ' , 

"''  , *•:  ,.  ' ii--  ii  i' 

ft  < 

^ r*  ** ' i'*  . ^ ,i^  - '‘BL^ 

, .x^  , . 0 ^ 1 • V i^v  ^ 

.>  Ji 


L.'  •■■ 


b 


>s;?T  ,*.i';a;fi's  ri 


71 


Nature  is  more  than  the  food  or  drink  of  life;  "not  only  the 
material,  but  is  also  the  process  and  the  result.  All  the  parts 
incessantly  work  into  each  other ^s  hands  for  the  profit  of  man." 
And  Emerson's  faith  and  belief  in  the  fact  that  God  is  manifest 
everywhere  throughout  the  universe  is  brought  to  us  in  the  pass- 
age: "the  endless  circulations  of  the  divine  charity  nourish  man." 
But  if  we  admit  this,  that  Nature  subserves  man's  desires  and 
Higher  function  needs,  should  we  think  that  for  this,  and 

this  only.  Nature  exists?  Is  there  no 


of  Nature 


higher  function  in  this  activity  and  function  than  t o be  a source 


of  life?  Hear  Emerson:  "A  man  is  fed,  not  that  he  may  be  fed,  but 
that  he  may  work."  It  is  not  enough  that  we  receive  Nature's 
gifts,  even  those  of  the  higher  nature  than  the  material.  We  must 
also  take  the  things  which  the  divine  source,  the  Idea  manifest, 
gives  to  us,  and  put  them  to  use.  The  man  who  receives  and  never 
gives  is  half  a man  or  less.  Fulfilment  of  destiny  is  best  seen 
in  activity. 


The  sould  is  in  search  of,  and  delighted  when  it  finds, 
beauty--another  of  the  characteristics  of  Nature.  As  Emerson  says 
in  one  of  his  poems  that  tliere  is  a beauty  "even  in  the  mud  and 
scum  of  things,"  so  here  we  find  the  statement  that  "Even  the 
corpse  has  its  own  beauty." 

Just  why  is  it  that  each  of  us  is  ever  in  search  of  Beauty? 


The  Search  i'  ■ Is  there  a real  function,  a practical  pur- 

fo'r  Beauty 

pose,  in  Beauty?  There  are  times  when  the 
physical  manifestation  of  Beauty  is  of  value;  the  mean  soul  is 
elevated  by  looking  at  a noble  work  of  art:  "The  simple  perception 


I ft'"  ^ »•»•■*  i •>•*  '■**■  ••  rc^l  n't'-rJ-  ‘r^J./qcf  . ' 


,<>,i".,?<  ■'">ft'  v.,<*  ^'j,  »o  Tt.'.‘"f,V  *^','-  ''‘■’f’’;*  r,TarfO'  > '%  • «,’■■  ■,-  ,r;i,j 

. ...V.' . iv  ■•1^  cr;j:  V r;.i- 

" ■'  ' '■■  ';f. 

‘(w'-L'  fix  ^ v.XJ’j'USSjiSOi' - • ' 


5,4,/  . ' ■,  '1* 


V‘ OTQ  - '1 


* * '■••"'•..y'v  i^;y  .6^?  .•■S.'if . f^zffstftr-  - ••'•U 


f.  '!  '.i 


I 


;v  . J I •■ 

- ' X o , < ;•  ,'■ . BiTii  ill, . r ^ ftin  i 

■'  ••■’  ^ -t.'JU  V wt-A  ./^;;  - , J,l  (T 'i:.  , U I 

’ '1  ' ' 

-*  I ''^.  .iiil  t V D Tx/'  . , j&ii 

. { 

• «:  .<^  . .'•  ’ ■■ 

in 

V- ’ : i J 1:4?  iX  rif  ‘ /ii  'jn  *!• 

t I '*04!  ..^  ■ : J.,-Alj  Y:'-> 


, .,  ri<-  T'-i  V. 

* -1  T-;''  . ' 

*'  1!  ^ 


'f'  ■ -*;VA  • ; XI  ‘•.:»*  i:3(if  itTiS^rf^ 


. \ *;'i  »:■  tom  t «i.'?L'iJ,..ii^  no:i- <’ . 


\ 

s_ 

A’  '\'€'  . * \ 


*•  ■'':■■  «r  *2  0 '•  ; 


.,-t.l  i^l' 


’ ' ’ ' ■^  '■  ' ‘-i  •''. 1;. .(fft  • .{ * oj!:,toX  0'.' 

-in  *ufi  . -'.^w  -*X,  ■■i.r  J , .y  0^':r;f;v 


, V;, 

WC'C  84'- . f'  H-'f  : ,“;I«4  aX  orv  tj. 


• \ 


, rfcitX':  X I ' -.:  j:  ^•^'^^fv  :..;•  ■.• 

'.it,' .'  I'l  ntr'  ■;  ^ 


*?2 


f 
( 

f.?.'v.;"  v’.'.  -f 


n' 

X f'  r^:xo<j£(  t-Xj  na  fcni'  " /' 


r 


i'.  .1  f • 1/ <..;;? , ‘ fiC'i  L’tx .•  1 ■_ O'  £4. , 


f-  • 


tar!  r 


' £n 


,.  ' fr 


; ■'¥ 


1- 


:•.  -Aw  r^.-x-X,  li  ■"  ‘.>...  •»,. 

1 . ■ 

• • - 

- ■>  ...;  : '_5W*0  . , -;c  : . 0-^4  i 7 ,«,*?'  ... 


. , "Jid  rrr-'/r  <-i5jc|v 


:- : 1 r 

I 


,W., 


»'-'t  - ri, r|W'  >x  IV-  u.  v4'l  S' ,;.!  :,...;:d' ' _ , ■vAuC 


■ if- 


»o<- 

■A-  4 


r : t "-.O  ^ocsix  *;.*«%  ; '..a 


^ ttC'  i , N ;» {•  -’,  r *.  0 i . ' : ;■;  V 7'r  '■ 


' ■ %. 

• .v;  oe^i 

' r 

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, •**>  • r .V  * *•  / 

" •■<  ' V.'  'V  Oi 


^ . 

V 


/ 


72 

of  natural  forms  is  a delight.”  But  if  this  were  all,  it  were 
not  enough.  We  see  and  appreciate  Beauty  because  Beauty  is  nat- 
ural. It  is  found  in  all  natural  ob,iects,  low  or  high.  A work 
of  art,  being  the  embodiment  of  the  Idea,  is  a summation  of  the 
world  of  nature:  "A  work  of  art  i s an  abstract  or  epitome  of  the 
world,”  Emerson  tells  us;  and  since  all  of  us  are  of  the  world, 
and  cognizant  of  its  processes,  there  is  answer  enough  in  this 
for  the  existence  of  Beauty,  and  reason  enough  vJhy  it  is  sought. 
Emerson  says  that  ”No  reason  can  be  asked  or  given  why  the  soul 
seeks  beauty.  Beauty,  in  its  largest  and  profoundest  sense,  is 
one  expression  of  the  universe.  God  is  the  all-fair.” 

Nature,  besides  serving  the  human  being  in  the  guise  of 
commodity  and  that  of  beauty,  subserves  also  in  language.  V/ords, 

Words  and  that  is  to  say,  establish  the  necessary  connection 

The  Hind'  ...  , . , , 

between  mind  and  matter.  V/ithout  the  word,  writi- 

ten  or  printed,  man  is  no  better  than  other  aAimals.  He  has  no 

way  of  telling  his  neighbor  of  the  facts  of  life  as  he  sees  them. 

Above  all,  Emerson  frequently  insists,  is  the  Idea;  if  we  have 

words  to  express  ourselves,  we  can  relate  that  Idea  to  life,  to 

the  manifestations  of  the  Idea  in  man,  art,  nature.  Before  we 

can  understand  spirit,  it  is  best  if  we  can  see  a concretion  of 

it.  This  is  true  for  us  throughout  life.  Numbers  are  always 

abstract,  philosophically  viewed;  and  the  child,  beginning  his 

education,  is  not  taught  the  number  one , but  sees  its  meaning  in 

"one  apple”,  "one  boy”,  etc.  We  are  forever  seeking  to  put  down 

in  a form  that  the  senses  can  evaluate,  some  expression  of  the 

idea.  It  seems  that  it  is  essential  to  our  v/elfare  that  we  do 


i. 

•i 


-T 


v>;^- 


' h 


, - f-vel’  4-;  ,4‘ ^ ’ . ‘ ’’^.t'^^-' 

.'  ■ - •tuvc  tjr..  . . 


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V -fO' 


^’,X 


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'•.  0 •:‘fiO/  *1C  ^C.£5*i7«*:.J  f...  u f 

r.yt-  * ,. . . 'i,  .lii  ,BJS/.. 

' ' ■ ■■r.i.  ' ::  -h  f'^.,  y f 


?-■  . y/  . ; 

\ ' ■-  . ■' , V J 

J •■’•  : Ml  t,:'^o.*  ir:C  \ ’■• 


f>  ^ 


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V »'  -V-. 


*,>■  '■  r i^rc  ao  I t t;«» 


. ,/  ■ ’iv  Ol  <!>,''  '.I 


- ^ '■  f'^'V ;%{  : »>:iP  .i  *»_d- 


■ ‘.  't  'T'  ,': 


,*'-^T!i7r,r  eij'  -1  , . •,tu4<od  ry  .'-s- 

'■  *•  •'  '■■'->£:  i..-.ri.iiri  ■.-.i'.'T'--  • . n€-.\:nf  ■ . 

,2..  : r ral-to  , 

*'  ■ e c; .,'  .^. 


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^'2^«S‘>';tv-r’  i»rl : •■>. : irf.-.:,  p.  ,«•'•  a'(;,;  (■  > \'^inu  • ■: • -V 

, ...»  .1^;^  V'  .',  ')y,!'y  ,-'.r  ■ '■■■d  ‘ “•“tc; 

' .y  : ' ■■  iu  '3- 


• ^‘  ■ ' ' ;•;/  C‘t'  , ' ■ ' 9,  7Q  f-C. 

'fi iJ,/  .:■  ' ’ •.  ?;C  V r I.  ':  ( '■u>v'iT.,i9ti  o.'rf  i 

■■  '*  ■ r,r:-^  ; . .-  r;  r/ *f..i, {';;,•  C'.;':  , .•. 

. , V 1 

..  ...i,  ‘‘^4*'--.  ‘ t**"  ''■■*  ; .■•:  {i*y.?04'ti>'y . •>  JT^--  oftn^f 

a.2  mK-  ■■■'y  K»y{(.  ■ urn.e'ifla^ 


'i-f 


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TxV.  ^ 


'^Cl«'WtnAJ:c2 


(rui  . ■ cj'  *,^i)<vi’S||XfOT 'V  ■&'jt;'’'ii!oj:'' Vi' 

U < •:'  ’-.-•O  './M  •=r.  (,..T4iL^  ; wv 

^ 7' 

^»T  ; VKVI^  ,';;■  , -..ficffyi),!!  .eC:*^  ‘'M  e-.^ 

. . ^ i,'  -M.  . • 

‘7^X‘h  ytf;a  o t ‘ ‘V  r } fiiiifu]  *•  ■>%•! 

to  1M‘'..‘: ”v 7 ^ c?'  ' ‘ 


, ,/i' 


vr-y  QK  ■ (»  envj"  : 

7 .'  :\(M- 


’ . i \'V  . V 


•''■••*  *J'' ,•.  H7  1.1-  S.^i  . O I r*i  3®0  O' 


.•  -I.,, 


.^pt 


21 


wmmt 


7/  . :'t£! 


73 


this.  "There  seems  to  be  a necessity  in  spirit  to  manifest  itself 
in  material  forms;  and  day  and  night,  river  and  storm,  beast  and 
bird,  acid  and  alfcali,  pre-exist  in  necessary  Ideas  in  the  mind 
of  Gid,  and  are  what  they  are  by  virtue  of  proceeding  affections, 
in  the  world  of  spirit.  A Pact  is  the  end  or  last  issue  of  spirit." 

We  learn  from  nature  through  the  discipline  that  is  implied 

! in  all  of  the  uses  nature  makes  of  herself  for  us.  "Our  dealing 

Discipline  with  sensible  objects,"  Emerson  reminds  us,  "is 

Of  Nature  ' 

a constant  exercise  in  the  necessary  lessons  of 
difference,  of  likeness,  of  order,  of  being  and  seeming,  of  pro- 
gressive arrangement ; of  assent  from  particular  to  general;  of 
combination  to  one  end  of  manifold  forces."  That  is  to  say,  we 
jj  learn  by  experience.  "The  burnt  child  shuns  the  fire"  is  trite, 
but  true;  and  what  man  learns  through  experience,  what  discipline 
he  receives  at  the  hands  of  a nature  whose  "dice  are  always  loaded," 
should,  if  he  have  the  right  outlook  upon  life,  guide  him  in  his 
conduct  of  life. 

Peral:ps  the  discipline  of  nature  should  give  us  a hint  of  the 
idealism  which  is  behind  it  sill.  The  point  of  view  of  the  trans- 
cendentalist  is  contained  in  Emerson’s  statement  that  "A  noble 
doubt  perpetually  suggests  itself,  whether  this  end  be  not  the 
"Pinal  Pinal  Cause  of  the  universe;  and  whether  nature 

outwardly  exists."  And  further;  "Whether  nature 
enjoy  a substantial  existence  without,  or  is  only  in  the  apocalypse 
of  the  mind,  it  is  alike  useful  and  alike  venerable  to  me."  When 
one  reads  such  statements,  one  is  prone  to  wonder  v/hether  or  not 
the  Christian  Science  doctrines  of  today  are  not  the  final  growth 


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74 


of  the  idealistic  philosophy,  which  went  from  Plato  through 

Plotinus  and  the  other  Neo-Platonists , on  up  through  the  German 

philosophers  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  and 

crystallized  into  New  England  Transcendentalism.  The  similarity 

is  surprising.  At  all  events,  Emerson  says  that  "Finally,  re- 

ligioh  and  ethics,  which  may  he  fitly  called, — the  practice  of 

ideas,  or  the  introduction  of  ideas  into  life, — have  an  analogous 

effect  with  all  lower  culture,  in  degrading  nature  and  suggesting 

its  dependence  on  spirit.”  Back  of  and  behind  all  the  ohysical 

manifestations  of  the  Idea,  Emerson  means,  is  the  Idea  itself; 

and  idealism  is  a natural  property  of  the  man  who  is  but  one  of 

the  ohases  of  this  manifestation.  Continuing  this  view  of  the 

Man,  Nature,  the  subject,  in  the  division  of  the  essay  on 

TIocT  

Nature  headed  "Spirit”,  Emerson  says  that  "As 
a plant  upon  the  earth,  so  a man  rests  upon  the  bosom  of  God;  he 
is  nourished  by  unfailing  fountains,  and  draws,  at  his  need,  in- 
exhaustible power."  All  that  is  necessary  for  man  to  do,  is  to 
learn  how  to  tap  that  reservoir  of  Ideas,  of  which  everything  in 
nature  and  art  is  a product,  if  man  would  hold  the  secret  of  life. 
To  those  who  are  able  to  do  this,  Emerson  says  in  "Prospects”, 
the  last  subdivision  of  his  subject,  "a  fact  is  true  poetry,  and 
themost  beautiful  of  fables.” 

In  giving  us  the  uses  for  which  Nature  is  designed,  there 
are  methods  employed,  the  understanding  of  which  is  requisite  to 
man.  The  fountain-head  of  all  is  God,  the  source  of  the  inex- 
haustible Idea.  It  is  not  for  us  to  question  too  closely,  how- 

"All  Things  ever:  "It  is  God  in  us  which  checks  the 

Are  God’s^ 


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75 

language  of  petition  b3'’  a grander  thought.  In  the  bottom  of  the 
heart,  it  is  said;  ”I  am,  and  by  me , 0 child  I this  fair  body  and 
world  of  thine  stands  and  grows.  I am  ; ^ 1 things  are  mine;  and 
all  mine  are  thine."  If  we  but  realize  this,  then  our  conduct 
of  life  will  be  right  and  proper  and  satisfactory.  Nature  has 
no  limited  purpose:  "Nature  can  only  be  conceived  as  existing  to 
a universal  and  not  to  a particular  and,"  i^merson  reminds  us. 
Emerson's  idea  that  "the  dice  of  God  are  always  loaded"  is  brought 
out  agiin  in  "The  Method  of  Nature"  where  he  says:  "I  conceive 
a man  as  always  spfi)ken  to  from  behind,  and  unable  to  turn  his 
head  and  see  the  speaker".  How,  then,  can  man  conquer  nature 
and  make  it,  in  its  devious  methods,  subserve  his  purpose?  The 
answer,  Emerson  feels,  is  plain:  "By  piety  alone,  and  by  convers- 
ing with  the  cause  of  nature,  is  he  safe  and  commands  it." 

Emerson,  in  his  long  essay  on  Nature,  and  in  that  on  The 

Method  of  Nature,  both  of  which  have  been  considered  above,  deals 

with  the  varied  manifestations  of  nature;  in  Essay  VI,  Second 

All  Nature  Series,  he  describes  external  nature  for  its 

Is  Useful' 

beauties  and  services  to  us;  and  he  says;  "It 
seems  as  if  the  day  was  not  wholly  profane,  in  which  we  have 
given  heed  to  some  naturaOL  object.  The  fall  of  snowflakes  in  a 
still  air,  preserving  to  each  crystal  its  perfect  from;  the  blow- 
ing of  sleet  over  a wide  sheet  of  water,  and  over  plains,  the 
waving  ryefield,  the  mimic  waving  of  acres  of  houstonia,  whose 
innumerable  florets  whiten  and  ripple  before  the  eye;  the  reflec- 
tions of  trees  and  flowers  in  glassy  lakes ; the  musical  steaming 
odorous  south  v/ind,  which  converts  all  trees  to  wind-harps;  the 


.•p 


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litr'il 


76 


crackling  and  spurting  of  hemlock  in  the  flames;  or  of  pine  logs, 
which  yield  glory  to  the  walls  and  faces  in  the  sitting-room, — 
these  are  the  music  and  pictures  of  the  most  ancient  religion.” 

If  the  artist  cannot  call  to  our  minds  pictures  like  these,  then 
he  fails.  The  unnatural  is  never  beautiful;  and  by  avoiding  n 
nature,  is  of  no  use  to  us.  That  which  serves  us  best  is  that 
which  is  most  like  nature;  "Only  as  far  as  the  masters  of  the 
world  have  called  in  nature  to  their  aid,”  Emerson  says,  ”can 
they  reach  the  height  of  magnificence." 

After  all,  it  is  only  in  so  far  as  our  understanding  of 

nature  aids  us  in  our  conduct  of  life  that  what  we  have  been, 

observed,  thought  upon,  learned,  is  of  value;  and  Emerson  points 

this  out  repeatedly  in  his  essay  on  "The  Conduct  of  life"  . If 

Use  Your  a man  have  everything,  and  know  not  how  to  use 

iCnowledge 

it,  of  what  avail  is  his  possession*  Understands- 
ing is  the  chief  business  of  all  of  us;  understanding  our  busi- 
nesses, understanding  our  friends,  understanding  ourselves.  "It 
chanced  during  one  winter,  a few  years  ago",  Emerson  remarks, 
"That  our  critics  were  bent  on  discussing  the  theory  of  the  Age. 
By  an  odd  coincidence,  four  or  five  noted  men  were  each  reading 
a discourse  to  the  citizens  of  Boston  dr  New  Yokr,  on  the  Spirit 
of  the  Times.  It  so  happened  that  the  subject  had  the  same 
prominence  in  some  remarkable  pamphlets  and  journals  issued  in 
London  in  the  same  season.  To  me,  however,  the  question  of  the 
times  resolved  itself  into  a practical  question  of  the  conduct 
of  life.  "How  shall  I live?"  Veritably,  the  query,  "How  shall  I 
live?"  is  one  which  each  of  us  must  put  to  himself.  All  v/e  do; 


4 


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77 


the  hooks  we  read,  the  thoughts  we  evolve,  the  friends  we  make-- 
all tare  of  use  to  us  only  in  so  far  as  they  enable  us  to  answer 
that  question  satisfactorily.  I have  chosen,  aid  quoted  below, 
different  phases  of  Emerson^ s answer  to  that  query: 

’’Life  is  a search  after  power;  and  this  is  an  element  with 

which  the  world  is  so  saturated, — there  is  no  chink  or  crevice 

Power,  the  in  which  it  is  not  lodged, — that  no  honest 

Secret  of hLife 

seeking  goes  unrewarded.  A man  should 
prize  events  and  possessions  as  the  one  in  which  this  fine  min- 
eral is  found;  and  he  can  well  afford  to  let  events  and  posses- 
sions and  the  breath  of  the  body  go,  if  their  value  has  been 
added  to  him  in  the  shape  of  power."  In  this,  we  see  Emerson’s 
idea  that  work,  with  its  accompanying  reward  in  money,  position, 
influence,  is  one  of  the  things  we  must  consider,  if  we  are  to 
understand  what  the  proper  conduct  of  our  life  is  to  be. 

This  idea  is  further  developed  in  the  chapter  on  "Wealth,” 
wherein  Emerson  says:  ”As  soon  as  a stranger  is  introduced  into 
any  company,  one  of  the  first  questions  which  all  wish  to  have 
answered  is.  How  does  that  man  get  his  living?  And  with  reason. 
He  is  no  whole  man  until  he  knows  how  to  earn  a blameless  live- 
lihood. Society  is  barbarous  until  every  industrious  man  can 

"Be  a get  his  living  without  dishonest  customs.  Every 

P Inducer 

man  is  a consumer,  and  ought  to  be  a producer. 

He  fails  to  make  his  place  good  in  the  world  unless  he  not  only 
pays  his  debt,  but  also  adds  something  to  the  common  wealth." 

The  latter  part  of  this  quotation  is  socialistic,  and  reflects 
the  communism  vjith  which  Emerson  and  others  were  imbued  when 


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the  Transcendentalists  tried  the  Brook  Pram  experiment.  Brook 
farm  failed;  but  any  thinking  man  will  ^acknowledge  that  his  only 
chance  of  real  success — a success  that  goes  farther  than  the  super- 
ficial one  of  owning  property--lies  in  sticking  by  this  orinciple 
steadfastly.  Production,  then,  should  be  one  of  our  guides  in 
determining  our  conduct  of  life. 

But  it  will  avail  us  little,  if  we  work,  produce,  and  add 

to  the  store  of  the  material  wealth  of  the  world  as  well  as  our 

own,  if  we  have  no  cultural  power  too.  True  wealth  consists  not 

in  owning  a fine  horse,  but  in  knowing  how  to  drive  him.  The  man 

with  thousands  of  beautiful  acres  is  poor,  if  he  can  not  walk 

over  them  in  spring  and  delight  in  the  budding  of  renascent  life, 

Culture  is  Emerson  tells  us  that  "The  word  of  ambition  at 

Necessary 

the  present  day  is  Culture.  Vtfhilst  all  the 
world  is  in  pursuit  of  power,  and  of  wealth  as  a means  of  power, 
culture  corrects  the  theory  of  success.  A man  is  the  prisoner 
of  his  power.  A topical  memory  makes  him  an  almanac;  a talent 
for  debate,  a disputant;  skill  to  get  money  makes  him  a miser, 
that  is,  a beggar.  Culture  reduces  these  inflammations  by  in- 
voking the  aid  of  other  powers  against  the  dominant  talent,  and 
by  appealing  to  the  rank  of  powers.  It  v/atches  success.  For  per- 
fonnance.  Nature  has  no  mercy,  and  sacrifices  the  performer  to 
get  it  done ; makes  a dropsy  or  a tympany  of  him.  If  she  wants 
a thumb,  she  makes  one  at  the  cost  of  arms  and  legs,  and  any 
excess  of  power  in  one  part  is  usually  paid  for  at  once  by  some 
defect  in  a contiguous  part."  Balance,  then,  is  an  essential 
in  our  conduct  of  life  as  is  work.  The  old  Greek  motto  of 


t-. 


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”nio deration  in  all  things"  might  with  .iustice  be  applied  here. 

What  Is  a The  genius — that  is,  the  "freakish"  genius  — 

"Froper  I.l!ah? 

is  not  a proper  man.  A symmetrical  culture 
is  best.  It  is  difficult  to  attain  this,  Emerson  recognizees 
full  v;ell;  and  he  says  that  "Our  efficiency  depends  so  much  on 
our  concentration,  that  Nature  usually  in  the  instances  where  a 
marked  man  is  sent  into  the  world,  overloads  him  with  bias, 
sacrificing  his  symmetry  to  his  working  powers."  V/hat  is  culture? 
might  be  asked;  if  it  is  to  be  understood  that  culture  should 
be  our  guide,  how  can  we  attain  it?  How  avoid  being  overloaded 
with  a bias?  Emerson  says:  "Culture  is  the  suggestion  from 
certain  best  thoughts,  that  a man  has  a range  of  affinities, 
through  which  he  can  modulate  the  violence  of  any  master-tones 
that  have  a droning  preponderance  in  his  scale,  and  succour 
him  against  himself.  Culture  redresses  his  balance,  outs  him 
among  his  equals  and  superiors,  revives  the  delicious  sense  of 
sjnnpathy,  and  warns  him  of  the  dangers  of  solitude  and  repul- 
sion" . 

Emerson  quotes  Plato  as  saying  that  "A  boy  is  the  most 

visious  of  all  wild  beasts,"  and  Gascoigne  as  saying  that  "A 

boy  is  better  unborn  than  untaught."  Edmcation,  then,  must 

be  brought  into  play,  if  we  are  to  be  cultured  men;  but  is  ed- 

Tru£.  ucation  doing  its  part?  Education,  if  it  is 

"Efd^at  i on 

to  be  the  source,  or  one  of  the  main  tribut- 
aries, to  culture,  must  be  the  right  sort,  Emerson  says  "Let 
us  make  our  education  brave  and  preventive,"  and  goes  on  to 
comment  that  though  the  parent  sends  the  boy  to  school  to  learn 


■ ' ' • * ' 

.■'\A  ‘■C.  ij 

■ . ’ J-. 

\'i  ’■  t ‘.  t^'.  T ;•  'j,  r:^-.r  -■" , 

r.-*  i'  .'f  ."v.  . • k-a  . 


'r  -vttn'  h/^!*Js  <:■:  illX'O'T.  : ;.:  ^ 

t‘i:  iY'-.^cr  • •;  r-4^.  > V'  V:  ‘ta,  : ;.T^•^y  Jf/ 

' ^r  V V, 

• . * 


'.  r/j{ " ’Ixiva^y- 


« f k I '.mX'  » -*'*  ^iT' 

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80 


grammar  and  study  through  long  terms,  the  boy  is  pleased  best 

not  be  associating  with  his  instructors,  or  in  perusing  Greek 

syntaxes,  but  in  looking  into  shop  windows  on  his  way  home  from 

school,  and  in  mingling  with  those  of  his  own  age.  "He  hates 

the  grammar  and  Gradus Emerson  says,  "and  loves  guns,  fishing 

rods,  horses,  and  boats.  ViJell,  the  boy  is  right;  and  you  are 

not  fit  to  direct  his  bringing  up  if  your  theory  leaves  out 

his  gymnastic  training.  Archery,  cricket,  gun  and  fishing-rod, 

horse  and  boat,  are  all  educators,  liberalisers;  and  so  are 

dancing,  dress,  and  the  stree-talk:;  and, — provided  only  the  boy 

has  resources,  and  is  of  a noble  and  ingenuous  strain, — these 

will  not  serve  him  less  than  the  books.  He  learns  chess,  whist, 

dancing,  and  theatricals.  The  father  observes  that  another  boy 

Liberal  Judgment  has  learned  algebra  and  geometry  in  the 

Through  Education 

same  time.  But  the  first  boy  has  ac- 
quired much  more  than  these  poor  games  along  with  them 

These  minor  skills  and  accomplishments, — for  example,  dancing, 
--are  tickets  of  admission  to  the  dress-circle  of  mankind,  and 
the  being  master  of  them  enables  the  youth  to  judge  intelligent- 
ly of  much  on  which,  otherwise,  he  would  give  a pedantic  squint." 
Liberalisation,  then,  is  also  a requisite  to  the  man  who  would 
know  what  his  conduct  of  life  should  be.  The  pure  scholiast, 
the  pedant,  the  book-worm,  the  man  who  lives  in  mind  only,  is 
not  symmetrically  cultured.  A cultured  man,  perhaps,  should 
know  Greek  and  the  classics;  but  he  is  not  cultured  if  he  knows 
them  perfectly,  and  can  not  box,  'ride,  or  row. 

"We  talk  much  of  utilities , --but  »tis  our  manners  that 


' If  I 


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associate  us",  i^merson  says.  Behaviour  is  one  of  things  in 
our  conduct  of  life  which  we  must  watch.  "The  soul  v/hich 
animates  nature  is  not  less  significantly  published  in  the 
figure,  movement,  and  gesture  of  animated  bodies,  than  in  its 
last  vehicle  of  articulate  speech.  This  silent  and  subtile 
language  is  Manners;  not  what,  but  how . " Thus  Emerson  in  the 
fifth  subdivision  of  his  essay  on  "The  Conduct  of  Life;"  and 
the  idea  is  greatly  expanded  in  his  essay  on  "Manners" , dis- 
cussion of  w^hich  1 include  here  for  ourposes  of  illustration. 

The  V^hat  and  because  I feel  that  its  proper  relation 

And  the  Hpw 

to  all  Emerson  wrote  is  here.  It  is  how  we 
do  a thing  that  counts.  This  may  easily  be  proven.  Let  us  say 
a man  writes  rhyme.  Shall  we,  then,  say  he  is  a poet?  If  at 
he  does  makes  him  he  is , then  he  is  a poet ; but  assume  that  the 
rhyming  doggerel  he  has  written  is  such  as  can  be  written  by 
anyone  with  even  a limited  knowledge  of  the  language;  that  man 
is  not  a poet;  the  how  element  is  lacking.  If  we  can  understand 
how  to  do  a thing,  well  and  good;  if  we  can  understand  this, 
and  also  know  how  the  other  man  does  it,  better;  but  "Half  the 
world,  it  is  said,  knows  not  how  the  other  half  lives,"  Emer- 
son says,  quoting  from  an  old  saying.  O-^r  Behaviour,  our  man- 
ners, are  of  great  use  to  us  in  our  conduct  of  life,  as  Emerson 
points  out  in  this;  "Manners  aim  to  facilitate  life,  to  get  rid 
of  impediments,  and  bring  the  man  pure  to  energies.  They  aid 
our  dealings  and  conversation,  as  a railv/ay  aids  travelling,  by 
getting  rid  of  all  avoidable  obstructions  of  the  road,  and 
leaving  nothing  to  be  conquered  but  pure  space.  These  forms 


'■  ‘ r .,  .f' t , . 

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: .)•  ■ ri-H  : 'K~Wv‘if  ,-r  : 

’•■>'•  • .1  . • 

' X' <*'’X  i li-L'rT’ ft.nxf  ir/'cvH  tJ  orti;  '•  ^rj| 


:.;■  ZS  :■  >>  ot  i J'  -'^X\ 

'■  ''‘tt  ' :U  ■ ■'  •.  V . 
Oi  :■..  T;?  :..v;(:^(,:  4 ii,j'  -.x.lU  -hti*:  '' 


, nc’ 


, >c  Zr*C  , .':K'iv:'l>a  “X'-.  fi 2 y '/  • ri:"^ 


. t:.  ':r>  tp:-  a„  0^  J'.i  h*^;  , ; 

* ■ ’ ■'••_. .7',  c-i?  4fc=‘'"  ;*••■:;:■<■.+  '•■  >.vrb'%>tjXoq  .■' 


r.jji  v 


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,'^r.  - ; ••  r .f 


'.i' 


x:  to'-x 

■*  ...i.. 

'•  i ■! {.••/.t  '.rfo  -Uiy  <r.'/ij  <i , h.ff  ■ ■rf'.'d’^^:- 


©rrvr  ,f  ,j-  .. 


82 


very  soon  become  fixed,  and  a fine  sense  of  propriety  is  cul- 

Fixation  of  tivated  with  the  more  heed,  that  it  becomes 

Forms 

a badge  of  civil  and  social  distinctions.  Thus 
grows  up  Fashion,  an  equivocal  semblance,  the  most  puissant, 
the  most  fantastic  and  frivolous,  the  most  feared  and  followed, 
and  which  morals  and  violence  assault  in  vain.”  If  manners  are 
what  they  should  be,  another  step  toward  that  perfect  culture 
which  is  one  of  the  prime  Ifehings  in  our  conduct  of  life,  is 
taken,  ^he  cultured  man  is  the  gentleman;  a term  often  misused, 
but  still  understood  for  what  it  should  mean,  ^he  gentleman’s 
conduct  of  life  is  what  it  should  be.  He  relies  upon  himself, 
he  asserts  himself,  and  so  is  welcomed  by  others;  no  one  is  at 
ease  if  there  is  one  in  the  company  who  is  not  self-possessed. 
Emerson  says,  in  developing  this  idea,  "A  gentleman  never  dodges; 
"A  circle  of  men  perfectly  well-bred,  would  be  a company  of  sen- 
sible person,  in  which  every  man’s  native  manners  and  character 

Self-  appeared.”  "The  basis  of  good  manners  is  self- 

HelTance 

” reliance."  ”A  scholar  may  be  a well-breddmai  , 

or  he  may  not.  The  enthusiast  is  introduced  to  polished  scholars 
in  society,  and  is  chilled  and  silenced  by  finding  himself  not 
in  their  element,  ^hey  ^1  have  somewhat  v/hich  he  has  not,  and, 
is  ©ems,  ought  to  have." 

V/orship  seems  to  Emerson  to  be  as  essential  as  the  other 
elements  in  the  makeup  of  a cultured  man,  the  man  who  knows  TAhat 
the  conduct  of  life  should  be.  ”We  are  born  believing,”  he 
says,  and  adds  that  "In  the  last  chapters,  we  treated  some  part- 
iculars of  the  question  of  culture,  But  the  whole  state  of  mai 


»*ji» *A»''  k :.  ■•  ^^«:  , 

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93 

is  a state  of  culture;  and  its  flowering  and  completion  may  be 
described  as  religion,  or  worship."  The  culture  of  the  man, 
in  a way,  determines  his  worship,  because  "The  god  of  the  can- 
nibals will  be  a cannibal,  of  the  crusaders  a crusader,  and  of 
the  merchants  a merchant.”  We  ape  others,  of  course;  the  cos- 
termonger’s wife,  if  she  can  contrive  it,  will  walk  like  the 
duchess  whose  house  she  serves;  the  shop  girl’s  rhinestones  are 

The  Age  of  imitations  of  the  diamonds  of  Fifth  Avenue. 

Belief  ^ a.-.  4.4. 

And  in  likeemanner , the  religion  of  the  better 

classes  is  sure,  in  time,  to  be  the  religion  of  the  lower.  If 
the  ruler  of  a country  be  insincere,  his  sub,]ects  are  affected 
measurably.  Emerson  points  out  that  "The  religion  of  the  cul- 
tivated class,  now,  to  be  sure,  consists  in  an  avoidance  of  acts 
and  engagements  which  it  was  once  their  religion  to  assume. 

But  this  avoidance  will  yield  spontaneous  forms  in  their  due 
hour.”  And  he  adds,  later,  that  "All  the  great  ages  have  been 
ages  of  belief."  Seal  success  is  measured  by  culture;  culture 
is  a phase  of  worship,  or  worship  of  culture,  for  they  are  in- 
terdeoendent ; and  hence  proper  worship  we  find  regarded  by 
Emerson  as  one  of  the  essentials  in  our  conduct  of  life. 

"We  live  by  our  imaginations,  our  admirations,  by  our 
sentiments,"  says  Emerson  in  his  chapter  on  Illusions  in 
"The  Conduct  of  Life."  This  is  undeniable;  but  there  are  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  illusions,  as  he  goes  on  to  point  out;  There 

Some  Illusions  are  deceptions  of  the  senses,  deceptions 

Are~~Go'od  ^ 

of  the  passions,  and  the  structural,  bene- 
ficent illusions  of  sentiment  and  of  the  intellect."  Some 


I r ' * , 


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84 


illusions,  then,  are  base,  and  deleoterious , while  others  have 
their  good  effects.  Still,  the  real  value  in  all  our  conduct 
of  life  lies  in  knowing  an  illusion  when  one  arises,  and  not 
being  overcome  and  misled  by  it.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  key- 
note of  Emerson’s  views  on  the  conduct  of  life  is  struck  in 


this  passage;  "The  intellect  is  stimulated  by  the  statement  of 

truth  in  a trope,  and  the  will  by  clothing  the  laws  of  life  in 

illusions.  But  the  unities  of  Truth  and  of  Right  are  not  broken 

by  the  disguise.  There  need  never  be  any  confusion  in  these. 

In  a crowded  life  of  many  parts  and  performers,  on  a stage  of 

nations,  or  in  the  obscurest  hamlet  in  Maine  or  California, 

the  same  elements  offer  the  same  choices  to  each  nev;  comer  , 

and,  according  to  his  election,  he  fixes  his  fortune  in  absolute 

nature ... .There  is  no  chance,  and  no  anarchy,  in  the  universe. 

All  is  system  and  gradation.  Every  god  is  there  sitting  in  his 

The  Gods  and  sphere.  The  young  mortal  enters  the  hall  of 

riTusions 


the  firmament;  there  is  he  alone  with  them 
along,  they  pouring  on  him  benedictions  and  gifts,  and  beckoning 
him  up  to  their  thrones.  On  the  instant,  and  incessantly,  fall 
snow-storms  of  illusions.  He  fancies  himself  in  a vast  crowd 


which  sways  this  way  and  that,  and  whose  movement  and  goings 
he  must  obey;  he  fancies  himself  poor,  orphaned,  insignificant. 
The  mad  crowd  drives  hither  and  thither,  now  furiously  commanding 
this  thing  to  be  done,  now  that.  What  is  he  that  he  should  re- 
sist their  will,  and  think  or  act  for  himself?  Every  moment, 
nev;  changes,  and  new  showers  of  deceptions,  to  baffle  and  dis- 
tract him.  And  when,  by-and-by,  for  an  instant,  the  air  clears, 


- - ".T  * 


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85 

and  the  cloud  lifts  a little,  there  are  the  gods  still  sitting 
around  him  on  their  thrones , --they  alone  with  him  alone  . The 
eternal  verities  of  life  are  always  present.  They  may  he  hidden, 
but  never  effaced.  He  who  can  find  them  has  the  secret  of  hov/ 
to  live.  Their  teachings  become  his  knowledge;  hei'is  a part 
of  their  system.  And  by  this  means,  is  he  guided  into  the 
proper  knowledge  of  the  condnct  of  life. 

Conduct  of  life,  like  other  things,  may  change  with  the 
passage  of  time.  War  seems  to  Emerson  to  have  once  been  essen- 
tial; the  savage  conflicts  of  early  day  were  needful  to  estab- 
lish the  foundations  on  which  we  have  later  builded,  because 
it  was  a factor  in  progress;  tempo raiy,  and  passing  into  disuse 

V/ar  and  (or  so  it  seemed  to  Emerson  in  that  day),  aid 

Progress 

he  says:  "The  student  of  history  acquiesces  the 

more  readily  in  this  copious  bloodshed  of  the  early  annals, 
bloodshed  in  God’s  name,  too,  when  he  learns  that  it  is  a temp- 
orary and  preparatory  state,  and  does  actively  forward  the 
culture  of  man."  The  reason  for  war’s  being  preparatory  was 
that  through  it,  strong,  and  therefore,  generally  speaking, 
the  more  intellectual  nations,  in  conquering  the  weaker,  forced 
them  to  adopt  the  modes  of  life  of  the  victor;  that  is,  to  adopt 
such  a system  in  their  conduct  of  life  as  had  been  proven  more 
successful,  through  the  victory  of  one  and  the  loss  of  the  other. 
"The  strong  tribe,"  Emerson  says,  "in  which  war  has  become  an 
art,  attack  and  conquer  their  neighbours,  and  teach  them  their 
arts  and  virtues."  Progress  is  the  result.  '*'^hen  one  civili- 
zation is  overthrown  by  another,  and  a change  takes  place  in 


0 ' 


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86 

its  wake,  the  weaker  qualities  die  out,  the  stronper  survive; 

and  if,  with  Emerson,  we  look  upon  those  things  which  in  the 

long  run  succeed  as  being  good,  then  war  in  early  days  accom- 

|)lished  good.  The  little  clan,  forced  to  live  from  hand  to 

mouth,  an  d in  which  every  man  had  to  be  a warrior  the  larger 

part  of  his  time  in  order  that  his  tribe  might  have  comparative 

security, had  little  or  no  time  in  which  to  become  cultured. 

The  Iroquois  Indianas,  a huge  tribe,  strong  and  dominant,  lived 

in  stockaded  huts.  Inside  their  inclosure  they  grew  grains, 

V/ar  and  in  the  cultivation  of  which  the  men  took  a part. 

Culture 

The  Illinois  Indians,  a smll  tribe,  ever  fearing 

their  neighbors  to  the  east,  were  partially  nomadic.  They 
lived  by  hunting,  and  what  little  agrarian  activity  existed  in 
a low  foim  in  their  temporary  encampments  was  done  by  the  w) men . 
So  it  has  been  throughout  history,  ii’or  centuries  the  Chinese 
led  the  world  in  culture;  they  were  a great  nation.  Across  the 
China  Sea  were  their  kinsmen;  the  Japanese,  among  whom  the  office 
of  samurai  was  the  highest;  and  until  western  civilization,  with 
its  newer  modes  of  warfare,  touched  the  Japanese,  he  was  a sav- 
age while  the  Chinese  was  a civilized  man,  comparatively  speak- 
ing. Perhaps  the  greatest  service  of  war  in  the  past  has  been 
to  give  man  self-confidence.  Emerson  says;  "What  does  all  this 
war,  beginning  from  the  lowest  races  and  reaching  up  to  man, 
signify?  Is  it  not  manifest  that  it  covers  a great  and  bene- 

Self-Help  ficent  principle,  which  nature  had  deeply  at 

Necessary 

heart?  Vi/hat  is  that  principle?  It  is  self- 
help.  Nature  implants  with  life  the  instinct  for  self-help. 


r 


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87 

perpetual  struggle  to  "be,  to  resist  opposition,  to  attain  to 
freedom,  to  attain  to  a mastery,  and  the  security  of  a oermanent, 
self-defended  being;  and  to  each  creature  these  objects  are 
made  so  dear,  that  it  risks  its  life  continually  in  the  strug- 
fle  for  these  ends.”  We  must  not  think,  however,  that  this  in- 
stinct is  the  only  one  of  value;  "The  instinct  of  self-help  is 
very  early  unfolded  in  the  coarse  and  merely  brute  forms  of 
war,  only  in  the  childhood  and  imbecility  of  the  other  instincts, 
and  remains  in  that  form  only  until  their  development.  It  is 
the  ignorant  and  childish  part  of  mankind  that  is  the  fighting 
part ." 

What,  then,  are  the  characteristics  of  the  part  of  man- 
kind that  does  not  fight— that  is  not  ignorant  and  childish? 
Emerson  says  that  "At  a certain  stage  of  his  progress,  the  man 
fights,  if  he  be  of  a dound  body  and  mind.  At  a certain  higher 
stage,  he  makes  no  offensive  demonstration,  but  is  alert  to 
repel  injury,  ai  d of  an  unconn uerable  heart.  Thisij  then,  is 
that  which  we  should  strive  to  gain,  if  we  would  be  helped  along 
a step  further--by  self-help  always,  let  it  not  be  forgotten- 
in  our  appreciatinn  of  the  right  conduct  of  life. 

Thinking  man  is  always  seeking  improvement ; is  always 

eager  to  reform  and  to  be  reformed;  yet  reform  must  be  gone  at 

cautiously.  ”I  do  not  wish  to  be  absurd  and  pedantic  in  reform” 

Emerson  says,  because  the  rabid  refomer,  the  man  dominated  by 

Judicious  a sheer  mania  for  changing  what  is  into 

Reform  Is  Good 

something  that  yet  is  not,  is  sure  to 
place  himself  in  "an  absolute  isolation  from  the  advantages  of 


•'■  iii.,  '■:•  .^^.:  , 

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88 


civil  society.”  In  his  essay  on  "Man  the  Reformer"  Emerson 
points  out  that  judicious  reform  is  good,  and  to  he  desired; 
and  he  says  that  "Every  great  and  commanding  moment  in  the 
annals  of  the  world  is  the  triumph  of  some  enthusiasm."  Reform 
is  needed  in  America,  he  believes;  and  he  outliries  the  way  in 
which  it  should  come:  "Let  our  affection  flow  out  to  our  fel- 
lows; it  wDuld  operate  in  a day  the  greatest  of  all  revolutions. 
It  is  better  to  work  on  institutions  by  the  sun  than  by  the  wind. 
The  state  must  consider  the  poor  man,  and  all  voices  must  speak 
for  him.  Every  dMld  that  is  born  must  have  a just  chance  for 
his  bread.  Let  the  amelioration  in  our  laws  of  property  proceed 
from  the  concession  of  the  rich,  not  from  the  grasping  of  the 
poor."  And  what  a telling  phrase  this  is,  well  to  be  used  today 
against  the  advocates  of  Mirectiaot ion' I "Let  us  begin  by 

habitual  imparting Love  would  put  a new  face  on  this  weary 

old  world  in  which  we  dwell  as  pagans  and  enemies  too  long,  and 
it  would  warm  the  heart  to  see  how  fast  the  rain  diplomacy  of 
statesmen,  the  impotrence  of  amies,  and  navies,  and  lines  of 
defence,  would  be  superseded  by  this  unarmed  child."  Reform, 
we  see,  should  be  brought  about  gradually.  It  can  never  be  ac- 
complished by  sudden  action,  if  it  is  real  reform,  but  must  re- 
sult as  the  outcome  of  a change  in  the  heart  and  mind  of  every 

individual  man. 

We  have  previously  seen  what  Emerson  thought  of  reform  and 
reformers  in  general;  and  now  we  shall  see  his  specialization, 

his  localization,  of  the  same  subject,  which  ne 
treats  in  "New  England  Reformers."  After  dis- 


Value  of 
Reformers 


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89 

cussing  the  fervor  for  reform  and  change  which  swept  New  England 
from  1820-1844,  Emerson  satirically  exclaims  "What  a fertility 
of  pro,1ects  for  the  salvation  of  the  world’."  After  a few  lines 
of  humorous  wit,  however,  he  seriously  says  that  "with  this  din 
of  opinion  and  debate,  there  was  a keener  scrutiny  of  insti- 
tutions and  domestic  life  than  any  we  had  known*  there  was 
sincere  protesting  against  existing  evils,  and  there  were  changes 
of  employment  dictated  by  conscience.”  There  is  often  a re- 
action against  reform;  a period  of  relaxation  follows  a period 
of  exertion:  the  world  seems  to  en.ioy  a sort  of  moral  holiday 
after  it  has  been  keyed  up  to  a pitch  of  high  idealism  and  al- 
truism, as  is  manifest  in  192O,  following  the  close  of  the 
V/orld  V'/ar.  Emerson,  in  1844,  said  that  "No  doubt,  there  was 

"Sufficiency  of  „ , , 

The  i?rivaten.Iair'  plentiful  vapouring,  and  cases  0^  back- 

sliding might  occur.  But  in  each  of 
these  movements  emerged  a good  result,  a tendency  to  the  adopt- 
ion of  simpler  methods,  and  an  assertion  of  the  sufficiency  of 
the  private  man."  It  is  upon  the  latter  fact  that  he  lays  em- 
phasis in  this  e ssay-lecture , saying  that  the  reionn  in  educa- 
tion, in  which  it  became  realized  that  it  was  not  essential  to 
a man’s  success  in  business  that  he  know  Greek,  had  that  effect 
which  Emerson  thinks  the  most  important  of  ^1;  "One  tendency 
appears  alike  in  the  philosophical  speculation,  and  in  the 
rudest  democrat ical  movements,  through  all  the  petulance  and  all 
the  puerility,  the  wish,  namely,  to  east  aside  the  superfluous, 
and  arrive  at  short  methods,  urged,  as  I suppose,  by  an  intui- 


I 


t 


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90 

tion  that  the  human  spirit  is  equal  to  all  emergencies,  alone, 
and  that  man  is  more  often  injured  than  helped  by  the  means  he 
uses.  I conceive  this  gradual  casting  off  of  material  aids,  and 
the  indication  of  growing  trust  in  the  private,  self -supplied 
powers  of  the  individual,  to  be  the  affirmative  principle  of  the 

Think  for  recent  philosophy:  and  that  it  is  feeling  its 

Yourself  . , . « ^ 

‘ own  profound  truth,  and  is  reaching  forward  at 

this  very  hour  to  the  happiext  conclusions.”  If  they  did  naught 
else,  then,  the  New  ISngland  reformers  made  people  think  for  them- 
selves: and  the  self-reliant  man  is  a long  way  on  the  road  to 
self-realisation  and  to  an  understanding  of  the  conduct  of  life. 
There  is  something  radical  about  reform,  even  in  conservative 
New  England;  and  Emerson  asks,  rightly,  "Is  not  every  man  some- 
times a radical  in  politics?  Men  are  conservatives  when  they 
are  least  vigorous,  or  when  they  are  most  luxurious. 

This  idea  of  conservatism  is  developed  and  expanded  in  an 
essay  on  "The  Conservative,"  in  which  Emerson  says  "There  is  al- 
ways a certain  meanness  in  the  argu- 
ment of  conservatism,  joined  with  a 
certain  superiority  in  its  fact.  It  affirms  because  it  holds. 

Is  there  suchvta  thing  in  existence  as  a pure  conservative?  Emer- 
son thinks  not,  and  he  says:  "Moreover,  as  we  have  already  shown 
that  there  is  no  pure  reformer,  so  it  is  to  be  considered  that 
there  is  no  pure  conservative,  no  man  who  from  the  beginning  to 
the  end  of  his  life  maintains  the  defective  institutions;  but 


No  Pure 

Uonserva tive  Exists 


he  who  sets  his  face  like  a flint  against  every  novelty , when 
approached  in  the  confidence  of  conversation,  in  the  presence  of 


! 

i 

i 

I 


i 


-I 


91 


friendly  and  generous  persons,  has  also  his  gracious  and  relent- 
ing motions,  and  es  mouses  for  the  time  the  cause  of  man;  and 
even  if  this  be  a short-lived  emotion,  yet  the  remembrance  o f it 
in  private  hours  mitigates  his  selfishness  and  compliance  with 
custom." 

Certainly  the  transcendentalist  is  not  a conservative;  one 
should  hardly  think  that  the  moments  in  which  he  "espouses  the 
cause  of  man"  were  rare;  and  although  Transcendentalism,  as  dis- 
cussed by  Emerson  in  his  essay  on  "The  Transcendentalist",  was 

The  Higher  not  new,  it  was  none  the  less  radical.  The 

Re  la"^i  on sli  i p s ^ ^ 

idealism  that  motivated  the  transcendentalist s 

of  Boston,  of  Brook  Farm,  was  not  novel,  "but  the  very  oldest  of 
thoughts  cast  into  the  mould  of  these  new  times."  V/hat  an  idealisi 
does,  is  to  connect  the  Thing  with. ’the  Idea--to  establish  that 
relationship  expressed  in  Emerson’s  doctrine,  which  may  be  repre- 
sented thus,  diagramatically: 


Emerson,  in  explication  of  the  above,  s^cys:  "The  idealist, 

in  speaking  of  events,  sees  them  as  spirits.  He  does  not  deny 

Events  the  sensuous  fact:  by  no  means;  but  he  will  not 

As  Spirits 


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see  that  alone." 


92 

It  is  all  well  and  good  for  us  to  examine,  and 
to  make  use  of,  circumambient,  material  nature;  but  it  is  essen- 
tial to  our  well-being  that  we  see  the  true  reality  behind  it 
all:  the  source,  of  which  this  nature  is  but  the  effluence. 

Our  attention  is  called  to  the  fact  that  "Although,  as  we 
have  said,  there  is  no  pure  Transcendentalist , yet  the  tendency 
to  respect  the  intuitions,  and  to  give  them,  at  least  in  our 
creed,  all  authority  over  our  experience,  has  deeply  coloured 
the  conversation  and  poetry  of  the  present  day".  Hence,  it  is 
proper  that  we  investigate  the  effects  of  this  upon  the  scholar 
in  America,  and  upon  the  rising  generations  in  the  America  of 
Emerson's  day.  In  his  essay,  "The  American  Scholar,"  Emerson 
The  Scholar  notices  that  the  scholar  is  the  man  who  real- 

ises the  oneness  of  Nature,  God,  Art,  Man  — 


Knows 


"Thus  to  him,  to  this  schoolboy  under  the  bending  dome  of  day, 
is  suggested,  that  he  and  it  proceed  from  one  root;  one  is  leaf 
and  one  is  flower;  relation,  sympathy,  stirring  in  every  vein. 

And  what  is  that  root?  Is  not  that  the  soul  of  his  soul? — k 
thought  too  bold — a dream  too  wild.  Yet  when  this  spiritu^ 
light  shall  have  revealed  the  lav;  of  more  earthly  natures — when 
he  has  learned  to  v/orship  the  soul,  amd  to  see  that  the  natural 
philosophy  that  now, is,  is  only  the  first  gropings  of  its  gig- 
antic hand,  he  shall  look  foiward  to  an  ever  expanding  knowledge 
as  to  a becoming  creator.  He  shall  see,  that  nature  is  the 
opposite  of  the  soul,  answering  to  it  part  for  part.  One  is  seal, 
and  one  is  print.  Its  beauty  is  the  beauty  of  his  ovm  mind. 

Its  laws  are  the  laws  of  his  ov/n  mind.  Nature  then  becomes  to 


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The  Yputh  and 
The  State 


93 

him  the  measure  of  his  attainments.  So  much  of  nature  as  he 
is  ignorant  of,  so  much  of  his  own  mind  does  he  not  yet  possess. 
And,  in  fine,  the  ancient  precept,  "Know  thyself,"  and  the 
modern  precept,  "Study  nature,"  become  at  last  one  maxim." 

It  is,  of  course,  but  to  be  expected  that  the  transcenden- 
talist  in  Emerson  should  speak  thus,  in  discussing  the  American 

scholar;  but  not  all  our  land  is  made  up  of 
scholars;  what  of  the  youth?  Emerson  says, 
in  his  essay  on  "The  Young  American,"  in  spealdng  of  the  attitude 
of  the  youth  of  the  land  toward  the  state;  "But  the  wise  and 
just  man  will  always  feel  that  he  stands  on  his  own  feet;  that 
he  imparts  strength  to  the  state,  not  receives  security  from  it; 
and  that  if  all  went  down,  he  and  such  as  he  would  quite  easily 
combine  in  a new  and  better  constitution."  An  egotistic  point 
of  view  for  the  young  man  to  take,  no  doubt;  but  if  it  is  guid- 
ed by  common— sen  se , it  will  win  out.  IWhat  a challenge  there  is 
to  the  American  of  today  in  Emerson’s  appeal;  "I  call  upon  you, 
young  men,  to  obey  your  heart,  and  be  the  nobility  of  this  land’." 

Emerson  and  Plato  on  Love 

It  is  of  interest  and  value  in  this  connection,  to  compare 
the  thought  of  Emerson,  after  considering  his  adjurations  to 
"The  Young  American,"  with  Plato,  whom  we  may  consider  as  the 
exponent  in  his  day  of  those  ideas  which,  in  a modified  and 
modernized  form,  Emerson  stood  for  in  the  nineteenth  century. 

How  much  Emerson  owed  to  Plato,  Socrates,  and  other  "an- 
cients who  called  beauty  the  flowering  of  virtue,"  we  do  not 
know;  but  certainly  there  are  many  points  of  marked  similarity 


94 


in  the  philosophy  of  fhe  American  transcendental ist  and  that  of 
the  persons  reported  in  the  dialogues  in  "The  Symposium."  This 
rather  surprising  similitude  may  readily  be  pointed  out  by  means 
of  pamllel  passages.  It  goes  still  further,  however;  we  can 
divide  Emerson's  treatment  of  his  subject  into  three  parts,  and 
find  corresponding  divisions  in  the  writings  of  the  ancients. 

The  division  of  a tripartite  nature  in  Emerson's  essay 
on  Love  is  just  what  one  would  expect,  having  read  others  of 

The  Tripartite  essays.  He  divides,  more  or  less  distinctly, 

Division  . , _ . ^ 

the  entire  field  thus;  Physical,  social, 

spiritual.  As  in  his  essay  on  Compensation,  where  he  drav/s 
illustrations  first  from  physical  nature,  the  sciences,  and 
mechanical  arts,  then  from  the  activities  of  society,  and  fin- 
ally deals  with  the  effects  of  compensatory  action  on  the  soul 
of  man,  so  too  in  his  essay  on  Love  he  describes  it  first  as 
the  physical  passion,  next  in  relation  to  its  effect  upon  society 
and  the  state,  and  at  last  shops  us  how  it  affects  manis  inner 
Accordingly^  I have  followed  in  this  paper  the  order  in 
which  Emerson  takes  up  the  three  phases  of  the  subject,  have 
quoted  passages  from  his  essay  illustrative  of  the  different 
Dolnts,  and  have  compared  them  with  passages  taken  from  The 
Symposium"  which  I believe  portray,  if  not  an  exact,  at  all 
events  a measurably  equivalent  idea  of  the  subject.  In  doing 
this,  only  such  passages  from  each  work  as  are  clearly  and  ob 
viously  indicative  of  the  writer's  attitude  on  the  subject, 
have  been  chosen,  ^'his  is  done  briefly,  in  order  to  show  first 
of  all  wherein  the  points  of  similarity  lie.  The  later  pat?t 
of  the  paper  is  concerned  with  a general  comparison,  in  v\to.ich 


95 

no  attempt  is  made  at  continuity,  but  which  aptly  and  amply 
illustrates,  with  but  little  comment,  the  parallel  ideas  found 
in  Emerson  and  older  writers. 

I . Physical 

Emerson  regarded  the  physical  basis  of  16ve--the  de- 
sire of  the  sexes  for  one  another — to  be  good,  end  essential. 

He  says:  ’’The  strong  bent  of  nature  is 
seen  in  the  proportionmA^ich  this  topic 


Nature’ s Winning 
Pictures" 


of  personal  relations  usurps  in  the  conversation  of  society;" 
and,  "All  mankind  love  a lover.  The  earliest  demonstrations  of 
complacency  and  kindness  are  nature’s  most  winning  pictures." 
Further  on,  he  says:  "I  have  been  told,  that  is  some  public  dis- 
courses of  mine  my  reverence  for  the  intellect  has  made  me  un- 
justly cold  to  the  personal  relations.  But  now  I almost  shrink 
at  the  remembrance  of  such  disparaging  words.  For  persons  are 
love’s  world,  and  the  coldest  philosopher  cannot  recount  the 
debt  of  the  young  soul  wandering  here  in  nature  to  the  power  of 
love,  without  being  tempted  to  unsay,  as  treasonable  to  nature, 
aught  derogatory  to  the  social  instincts." 

Eryximachus , one  of  the  speakers  in  "The  Symposium,"  has 
this  to  say  of  love i "....whereas  other  gods  have  poems  and 

hymns  made  in  their  honor  by  the  poets,  who  are 
so  many,  the  great  and  glorious  god.  Love,  has 

not  a single  panegyrist  or  encomiast This  mighty  deity  has 

been  neglected  wholly’."  Phaedrus,  too,  said  that  Love  is  not 
only  the  oldest  of  the  gods,  but  "he  is  also  the  source  of  the 
greatest  benefits  to  us."  One  must  make  allowance,  in  comparing 


Love  a 
B'en^f  i t 


96 

the  Greek  and  American  discourses  oh  love,  for  differences 
chronological  , religious,  and  environmental;  but  when  this  is 
done,  it  is  at  once  aoparent  that  the  gist  of  Emerson^s  remarks 
on  this  phase  of  the  subject  may  without  doubt  be  paralleled  by 
the  underlying  sense  of  what  Eryximachus  and  Phaedrus  said  at 
Agathon*s  banquet- 
II.  Social 

Always  interested  in  the  welfare  of  society  in  the 
large,  Emerson  of  course  found  in  the  love  of  two  individuals  o 
cause  and  reason  for  a greater  and  more  inclusive  love,  which 
made  for  the  better  understanding  of  humankind.  To  quote;  By 
conversation  with  that  which  is  in  itself  excellent,  magnanimous, 
lowly,  and  just,  the  lover  comes  to  a warmer  love  of  these  nobil- 
ities, and  a quicker  apprehension  of  them.  Then  he  passes  from 
loving  them  in  one  to  loving  them  in  all,  and  so  is  the  one 
beautiful  soul  only  the  door  through  v^hich  he  enters  to  the  so- 
’’Traits  of  ciety  of  all  true  and  pure  souls ...  .And,  be- 

holding  in  many  souls  the  traits  of  the 

divine  beauty,  and  separating  in  each  soul  that  which  is  divine 
from  the  taint  which  it  has  contracted  in  ;fehe  world,  the  lover 
ascends  to  the  highest  beauty,  to  the  love  and  knowledge  of  the 
Divinity,  by  steps  on  this  ladder  of  created  souls."  The  latter 
part  of.the  foregoing  passage  shows  Emerson's  ever-present  idea 
of  God  being  manifested  in  all  things,  and  attainable  by  all. 
This  quotation  might  equally  well,  perhaps  be  taken  as  repres- 
entative of  the  third  division  of  his  thought  on  love,  namely, 
the  spiritual  side  of  it;  but  it  haimonizes  so  thoroughly,  and 


' '■'Si 

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Social  Progress 
And  Iiove 


97 

is  such  an  orderly  progression  from  his  social  ideas  on  the  sub- 
ject, that  I have  chosen  to  quote  it  here  as  well  as  later.  Pro- 
bably the  most  concise  and  definite  statement  of  the  social  side 
of  love  is  given  by  Emerson  in  the  following:  "For  it  is  the  nat- 
ure and  end  of  this  relation,  that  they  (lovers)  should  represent 
the  human  race  to  each  other.  All  that  is  in  the  world,  which  is 
or  ought  to  be  known,  is  cunningly  wrought  into  the  texture  of 
man,  of  woman." 

Phaedrus,  one  of  the  speackers  quoted  by  Plato,  was  at  one 
with  Emerson  in  saying  that  social  progress  was  best  secured 

through  love.  To  quote;  "For  the  prin- 
ciple which  ought  to  be  the  guide  of  men 
who  would  nobly  live— that  principle,  I say,  neither  kindred,  nor 
honor,  nor  wealth,  nor  any  other  motive  is  able  to  implant  as 
surely  as  love.  Of  what  am  I speaking?  Of  the  sense  of  honor  and 
dishonor,  without  which  neither  states  nor  individuals  ever  do 
any  good  or  great  work."  Emerson  has  told  us  that  through  the 
love  of  individuals  there  is  attained  an  appreciation  of  good 
qualities  in  others  than  the  beloved;  and  here  Phaedrus  corro- 
borates it. 

Ill . Spiritual 

"Every  promise  of  the  soul  has  innumerable  fulfilments,” 

says  Emerson;  "each  of  its  joys  ripens  into  a new  want."  And  he 

tells  us  definitely  the  divine  purpose  back  of  human  love,  when 

he  says:  "Therefore,  the  Deity  sends  the  glory  of  youth  before 

the  soul,  that  it  may  avail  itself  of  beautiful  bodies  as  aids 

The  OelestiaH  to  its  recollection  of  the  celestial 

Through  the"~~E‘arthly 


98 

good  and  fair;  and  the  man  beholding  such  a person  in  the  female 
sex  runs  to  her,  and  finds  the  highest  ,1oy  in  contemplating  the 
form,  movement,  and  intelligence  of  this  person,  because  it  sug- 
gests to  him  the  presence  of  that  which  indeed  is  within  the 
beauty,  and  the  cause  of  the  beauty.”  It  is  perhaps  not  amiss 
to  quote  here  part  of  a passage  already  used  under  division  II: 

”And,  beholding  in  many  souls  the  traits  of  the  divine  beauty, 
and  separating  in  each  soul  that  which  is  divine  from  the  taint 
which  it  has  contracted  in  the  world,  the  lover  ascends  to  the 
highest  beauty,  to  the  love  and  knowledge  of  the  Divinity,  by 
steps  on  this  ladder  of  created  souls."  This  passage,  as  already 
mentioned,  is  closely  connected  with  the  social  idea;  but  hear 
Emerson  further;  "But  things  are  ever  grouping  themselves  accord- 
ing to  higher  or  more  interior  laws.  Neighbourhood,  size,  numbers, 
habits,  persons  lose  by  degrees  their  power  over  us.  Cause  and 
effect,  real  affinities,  the  longing  for  harmony  between  the  soul 
and  the  circumstance,  the  progressive,  idealizing  instinct,  pre- 
dominate later,  and  the  step  backward  from  the  higher  to  the  lower 
relations  is  impossible.  Thus  even  love,  which  is  the  deification 
of  persons,  must  become  more  impersonal  every  day.  Of  this  at 

first  it  gives  no  hint the  soul  is  wholly  embodied,  and  the 

body  is  wholly  ensouled."  And  his  final  statement  of  the  spiritual 
nature  and  purpose  of  real  love  is  thus  given;  "At  last  they  dis- 
cover that  all  which  at  first  drew  them  together , —those  once 
sacred  features,  that  magical  play  of  charms,— was  deciduous,  had 
a prospective  end,  like  the  scaffolding  by  which  the  house  was 
built;  and  the  purification  of  the  intellect  and  the  heart,  from 


> . .1 . 


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The  True 
Purpose  of  Love 


ye&r  to  year,  is  the  real  marriage,  fore- 
seen and  prepared  from  the  first,  and 


99 


wholly  above  their  oonsoiousness . . . .Thus  are  we  put  in  training  I 
for  a love  which  knows  not  sex,  nor  person,  nor  partiality,  but  I 
which  seeks  virtue  and  wisdom  everywhere,  to  the  end  of  increas-  I 
ing  virtue  and  wisdom.  We  are  by  nature  observers,  and  thereby 
learners.  That  is  our  permanent  state.  But  we  are  often  made  I 

to  feel  that  our  affections  are  but  tents  of  a night.  Though  I 

slowly  and  with  pain,  the  objects  of  the  affections  change,  as  I 

the  objects  of  thought  do.  There  are  moments  when  the  affections  I 
rule  and  absorb  the  man,  and  make  his  happiness  dependent  upon  a 
person  or  persons.  But  in  health  the  mind  is  presently  seen 
again,— its  overarching  vault , bright  with  galaxies  of  immutable 
lights,  and  the  warm  loves  and  fears  that  swept  over  us  as  clouds, 
must  lose  their  finite  character  and  blend  with  God,  to  attain 
their  own  perfection.  But  we  need  not  fear  that  we  can  lose  an y- 
thing  by  the  progress  of  the  soul.  The  soul  may  be  trusted  to 
the  end.  That  which  is  so  beautiful  and  attractive  as  these  re- 
lations must  be  succeeded  and  supplanted  only  by  what  is  more 

beautiful,  and  so  on  for  ever.” 

Eryximachus  said:  "Furthermore,  all  sacrifices  and  the  whole 

art  of  divination,  which  is  the  art  of  communion  between  gods 
and  men, --these,  I say,  are  concerned  only  with  the  salvation  aaid 
the  healing  power  of  love;"  and  Aristophanes  declared  that  "if  we 
are  friends  of  God  and  reconciled  to  him  we  shall  find  our  own 
true  loves,  which  rarely  happens  in  this  world. ...ray  words  have  a 
wider  application;  and  I believe  that  if  all  of  us  obtained  our 


100 


love,  and  each  one  had  his  particular  beloved,  thus  returning  to 
our  original  nature,  then  our  race  would  be  happy."  Allowance 
must  here  be  made  for  the  fact  that  the  soul,  as  understood  in 

God  and  Emerson’s  time  and  today,  was  not  regarded  as  an 

TITe  ^oul  , , , 

entity  in  any  thing  like  the  Same  manner  by  the 

men  of  whom  Plato  writes;  but  nevertheless  the  references  to  "God" 

or  "the  God"  found  in  "The  Symposium"  are  obviously  illustrative 

of  ideas  which  may  with  justice  be  compared  to  Emerson’s.  Socrates, 

reporting  his  conversation  with  Biotima,  said  that  love  "is  a 

great  spirit,  and  like  all  that  is  spiritual  he  is  intermediate 

between  the  divine  aid  the  mort^  ,"  and  further,  that  love  is  the 

power  "Which  interprets  and  conveys  to  the  gods  the  orayers  and 

scarifices  of  men,  and  to  men  the  commands  and  reiifards  of  the  gods, 

and  this  power  spans  the  chasm  which  divides  them,  and  in  this  all 

is  bound  together,  and  through  this  the  arts  of  the  prophet  and 

the  oriest,  their  sacrifices  and  mysteries  and  charms,  and  all 

prophecy  and  incantation,  find  their  way,  Por  God  mingles  not 

with  man;  and  through  this  power  all  the  intercourse  and  speech 

"Spiritual  of  God  with  man,  whether  awake  or  asleep,  is 

Wisdom" 

carried  on.  The  wisdom  whichuunder stands  this 

is  spiritual;  all  other  wisdom,  such  as  that  of  arts  or  handi- 
crafts, is  mean  and  vulgar."  How  greatly  this  passage  resembles, 
even  in  context,  that  of  Emerson,  wherein  he  says  "But  things  are 
ever  grouping  themselves  according  to  higher  or  more  interior 
laws,"  and  the  other:  "At  last  they  discover  that  all  which  at 
first  drew  them  together .... .was  deciduous,  had  a prospective  end,, 
..the  warm  loves  and  fears  that  swept  over  us  as  clouds,  must  lose 


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i«  rf-at-'-irnii-T  .y,jH:p  rh^M.  i,:..t  '.jl.w  , i’ ••  #?•’ ^ nts^fi  V-.”.  >,2 

\ ' ' ‘ ' • ■ ■ *'  •'  ' %;.  ' ■ ‘ ' " ‘ , 


. (;  'i 


’Jh\ 


frr#  "'  C'.  '7/ ■ '/.,5 


'f  ;*€fuJ( 


■ 'V  : .‘  ■ . • vt 


V ' 'a 


: i!4^rf  .*; ; ; v 


: '.l 


101 


their  finite  character  and  blend  with  God,  to  attain  their  own 
perfection 

I believe  that  the  passages  I have  chosen  and  quoted  above, 
from  Emerson  and  from  the  different  speakers  mentioned  in  "The 
Symposium”,  illustrate  well  enough  the  main  divisions  of  the  sub- 
ject as  made  by  Emerson,  and  as  corroborated  in  the  speeches  of 
the  earlier  men.  To  sum  up:  Both  thought  that  love  had  its  de- 
finite place  as  a matter  affecting  individuals;  that  it  affected 
society;  and  that  through  it  msn  attained  fo  communion  th  Divin- 
ity. 

The  following  passages  from  Emerson  and  "The  Symposium"’- 
might  be  grouped  under  one  or  another  of  the  foregoing  three  heads; 
but  to  include  them  there,  with  the  necessary  comments  on  each, 
would  be  to  make  this  division  of  the  subject  much  longer  than 
advisable;  and  so  I have  set  them  down  here,  with  no  comment.  In 
nearly  all  cases,  even  the  wording  of  them  is  so  similar  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  point  out  the  similarity  of  thought  in  them; 
and  where  there  is  a difference,  due  to  the  inherent  differences 
in  the  Christian  thou^t  of  Emerson  and  the  pagan  philosophy  of 
the  men  in  "The  Symposi-um,"  I believe  that  even  a casual  compari- 
son will  show  how  nearly  alike  were  the  thoughts  on  love  of  our 
American  thinker-poet  and  the  early  Greek  philosophers. 


Parallel  Passages 

love  Selects  Youth 

Emerson:  "Eor,  though  the  celestial  rapture  fall^^ig  out 

of  heaven  seizes  only  upon  those  of  tender 

”^he  delicious  fancies  of  youth  reject  the  least 

savour  of  a mature  philosophy..." 


■ ih  r .. 


' ■ ’i  *’  -’  ’ -•  ft  Ci'Ji  “Siu-.  jjjr,-  ' 


• :•  fcti-  ■ xxo  v 1 

..  ^ ;h  ’ ■'* 

-m:  ,:i;-  -■.  -V - .. J 


\^  ■ .'  ' ■ . '■  '•  "■■'  ' '■  ' ■'* 


■:VO';  '„,j  , 


/'■ 


• t * ■'  • ' ■ ' ' 

aCj'iiciJ:^'"/.  j.  ot  \>v{'Ju^>)Sa  r^y . Jr  .i^njs  ' ;,  : 


• V-’ . r" 


r • 


-V  ••  - ■'  " , • ••-  ?:••  . : .iol  ' 


r.x!  - 


-JC 


• ■•-  . ./•  '.  0 \v(Ut:u^.'.o  '^nr,'  ^ [G^.Jy.  - L*.  .;i.^ 

' ''  - ma  ?■! 

" ' T:^5^-C^r..r  ;.fvr  ^ ;,rc.  !r(.  y-  t.  ^ ft  vi'-  ' ^i(]  ‘v",  /jjj 


/ 

fnr.E 


A : , 'iWi  /TV.'Oli  ^ct»>-  ^v>e  U.  ^ 


. d ..  t.  ♦;  .. ’' X C 3..-  '• . ., 'T 'i' ■ '*  ,'  ■>'•  , '"'«’iA?.C 


^ in  %-<:?■  • t<vl '.r> 


y«.7  f3<f 


w . 'j «'■; V|U  •/■« ••. v-.jjT/ ( . ■;7f>"n; r.  ..  rt7€^j)^r- 


■■to  o ^‘:  •I'.ei'^.o  ^.'ir  iHiji-  iwtt-zviTT*  ,,.V^  *t^  "I'l)  , ''".u'lriO  fi/vtt  in' 

''■>.■-■■  :.  iii.umt-'  r,  ifJiVw  tiitff?  •,«'TV:liolrf'.  ]^'  <.  . • • 

•_ 


jt*. 


a.' 


I 1 ' V • 


•0_  lii/..  i o»i  o 

. 7-  V ■ 1 , ■ : y' 


— .i.^ - _ ■ — - - ~ _*w  r\i 


■ ' tv 


\s4  \ 

-•^»a 


.V"  ,'’X'  ,■'< 

.,:tii.oy;  Vo^i-': ''  LI- ^ , ■ 7x01  .4 


• • • .*A<Ck.  ',. , .*  , ,■ 


••■  " . .V  • . ■'■■  \'-t< 

_ I ••*♦  I’.'i  V • ' ■ 


SRWSWsi-'  ■?. 


W"; 


'.V 


102 


"The  natural  association  of  the  sentiment  of  love 
with  the  heyday  of  the  blood  seems  to  require,  that  in  order  to 
portray  it  in  vivid  tints,  which  every  youth  and  maid  should  con- 
fess to  be  true  to  their  throbbing  experience,  one  must  not  be 

too  old." 

Symposium:  "For,  in  the  first  place,  Phaedrus,  he  is  the 
youngest;  {of  the  gods)  and  of  his  youth  he  is  himself  the  wit- 
ness,  fleeing  out  of  the  way  of  age,  which  is  swift  enough  girely, 
swifter  than  most  of  us  like : yet  he  can  not  be  overtaken  by  him; 
he  is  not  a bird  of  that  feather;  youth  and  love  live  ana  move 

together. " 

Strength  and  Courage  from  Love 

Emerson:  "The  like  force  has  the  passion  over  all  his  nature 
It  expands  th”e  sentiment;  it  makes  the  cloi'm  gentler;-'  and  gives  the 
coward  heart.  Into  the  most  pitiful  and  abject  it  will  infuse  a 
heart  and  courage  to  defy  the  world,  so  only  it  have  the  count- 
enance of  the  beloved  object." 

"They  try  and  weigh  their  af fection , and , adding 

up  costly  advantages,  friends,  opportunities,  exult  in  discovering 
that  willingly,  joyfully,  they  would  give  all  as  a ransom  for  the 
beautiful,  the  beloved  head,  not  one  hair  of  which  shall  be  harmed* 

Symposium:  "love  will  make  men  dare  to  die  for  thbir  be- 
loved." , 4.  4.-U  . 

"The  interests  of  rulers  require  that  their 

subjects  should  be  poor  in  spirit,  and  there  there  should  be  no 
strong  bond  of  friendship  or  society  among  them;  and  love,  above 
all  other  motives,  is  likely  to  inspire  this,  as  our  Athenian 
tyrants  learned  by  experience." 

Grace  and  Beauty  from  Love 

Emerson:  "It  is  the  dawn  of  civility  and  grace  in  the 

coarse  and  "nistic."  n « 

"Beauty,  whose  revelation  to  man  we  now  celebrate, 

welcome  as  the  sun  wherever  it  pleases  to  shine,  which  pleases 
everybody  with  it  and  with  themselves,  seems  sufficient  to  it- 
self. The  lover  can  not  paint  his  maiden  to  his  fancy  poor  and 
solitary. . .she  teaches  his  eye  why  Beauty  was  pictured  with  Loves 
and  Graces  attending  her  steps." 

Symposium:  "The  actions  of  a lover  have  a grace  which  en- 
nobles them.”" 

"But  what  if  man  had  eyes  to  see  the  true 
beauty--the  divine  beauty,  I mean... would  that  be  an  ignoble  life?" 


Poetry  from  Love 

Emerson:  "It  is  a fact  often  observed,  that  men  have 


. '■  '.*n  ^ ■ X,*' 

1 ■ /■.  * • .vf,  Jf/A  i.1, 


.‘0  . ./iir  '!  ■•  ■’  ■ .w.'.  .'  , rT.r  .'V 

ut.wft  ■ 5. •:;•»■  h:-. 


V.  ..f 

' . I' 


V' 


(.li  i 

. — ^ --- 


. V t 


i ."'’  ttus 


I.  ■ *Atlt\ 


- 


.ftv.'*"'  • ■•  "■.,  i'.r  ■ 


1C»  ' M 


3^ 


I- 


t ' 

.il 


* ' 9 ^ ' v''?' . ' (<.'  o.*f iVaiip 


j 'j'aJ' 


„/  rhv'j , ' 

i / r iw 


:f.  / ' ’T 


■ ^ " A ; ■ 

■'-i  ’ .■  '.'■.  ' '<j  ;■, 


■j.  > » 

•':  ■> " . 

.."i, 


'■:,  , '.  . -,  I 


‘■-  i\ • ••> • f.  \x  <•  ij  *'■<?  ? . ,/r. dt. . ; r / V ■ V , ;p 


Jii 


''-f.  " . ont>'  ''J 


'C-’  -A*  ^''  t'  '■'.'-•J cjTvt^Mno'./.^x  _ 


'1‘.  ' .r;  >• 


..-a  C;:i:' 


-y. 


'■r 


■•nu  ■ j 


r 1 


. •<  ' Y 

.'i  ( 


f 


' .;  '1 

'Y  ;tl». 


• > ■ ' oj'i. 

- - ' .V^  ' 1 

bi... 

r...  ..  .... 


(' 


■A  •.«  J 


■V 


1. 


. 


1. 


- 


V,***  '*"  -•  -■^'  * 

' .'Of«  ■ ,•. 


•'  •’  :•; 

0 j.:'0  f %S 

^ I 


■I'ry  v: 


t . > ^ ^ fir*  I rf.'l  J 


-.  .’  ..  , ■■  :'■ 


) 


'*«'•  . ''  '•*'■  ;?■■':  t,  ^v-> 


M 1 !■■ 

' . ' ' ’ ' » ■ t ^ *1, 


103 

written  good  verses  under  the  inspiration^^ of  passion,  who  cannot 
write  well  under  any  other  circumstances." 

Symposium:  "For  in  the  first  place  he  is  a poet,  and  he  is 
also  the'  source  'of  poetry  in  others,  which  he  could  not  he  if  he 
were  not  himself  a poet.  And  at  the  touch  of  him  every  one  be- 
comes a poet,  even  though  he  had  no  music  in  him  before. 


Sensual  and  Spiritual  Love 

Emerson:  "If,  however,  from  too  much  conversing  with  mat- 
erial objects,"  the  soul  was  gross,  and  misplaced  its  satisfaction 
in  the  body,  it  reaped  nothing  but  sorrow;  body  being  unable  to 
fulfill  the  promise  which  beauty  holds  out;  but  if,  accepting  the 
hint  of  these  visions  and  suggestions  which  beauty  makes  to  his 
mind,  the  soul  passes  through  the  body,  and  falls  to  admire 
strokes  of  character,  and  the  lovers  contemplate  one  another  in 
their  discourses  and  their  actions,  then  they  pass  to  the  true 
palace  of  beauty,  more  and  more  inflame  their  love  of  it,  and 
by  this  love  extinguishing  the  base  affection,  as  the  sun 
out  the  fire  by  shining  on  the  hearth,  they  become  pure  and  hal- 
lowed.” 


Symposium:  "Evil  is  the  vulgar  lover  who  loves  the  body 
rather  than  the  soul,  and  who  is  inconstant  because  he  is  a lover 
of  the  inconstant;  and  therefore  when  the  bloom  of  youth  which 
he  was  desiring  is  over,  he  takes  ngs  and  flies  away,  in  spite 
of  all  his  words  and  promises;  whereas  the  love  of  the  noble  mind, 
which  is  in  union  with  the  unchangeable,  is  everlasting. 

Turning  now  from  the  most  generalized  of  Emerson’s  ideas, 
let  us  take  up  in  detail  various  phases  of  the  manifold  subjects 
touched  upon  in  the  large  in  the  preceding  chapter.  Part  of 
Nature  v/e  may  well  conceive  as  consisting  of  Self-Reliance,  and 
surely  Spiritual  Laws,  Compensation,  and  History  comprise  chapters 
in  the  great  book  of  life. 

In  this  division  of  Emerson’s  essays,  he  touches  upon  such 
impersonalities  as  Compensation,  and  upon  such  personalities  as 
Character.  I shall  discuss  each  essay  briefly,  using  occasional 
quotations  illustrative  of  the  points  in  question,  and  in  my  ex- 
position, shall  follow  the  order  in  which  Emerson  arranged  the 
"Essays  First  and  Second  Series."  Each  is  such  an  integer  that 


'"'4 


T 


4 


. i.< 

•?(  r 


y- . 


■■  ; ' i.-.r>'.»v,  TtC  t»Oi. 

' v;  Hit'r 

'■  '•■  '■.  '■  ■'  ' . ■ c 


‘ '■'  ■*  •’  ' * ’ = . t;  I 

■■  . ; •■*•■  •■•;*''*;  ' ■ ; ; ■ :<  ■ *»  * c J ‘. 

V ■ " • , _ • '■  ‘ . ' «rr  'V  . r?v 


: ' j^' • 


•V 


» : . ■>.t'  : 

. . , y 

1-4,  ' • ' 


• ' h--'  ■ i-  - . , 

' ’ ■■■  ■ . A 1-kU 

a j-  ii':  ' ritl 


* ».  *\ 


",'<»vn  ri.  cT.  CH  i , 


: ■W--T 


- ' . » I-t-.-.^vrsOi  f\-  ,t  ; , 


I ' 


'Wi 

C'.'-5J'  i;i‘  2 


i-.'> 


j . 


yr:::  j- 


■ u Jia 

*j1;  »yrti?vlrt  '( 


' '*1  ','•  •■, 


~~'iirrnin>i#i'iii  niniinifijiiMwiij  mi 

' ' • .J*A  4 * . 


' JiL,  ■- 


104 


I feel  that  it  is  impossible  to  relate  all  the  essays,  as  I did 
in  Group  I. 

History 


Without  hurry,  without  rest,  the  human  spirit  goes  forth  from 
the  beginning  to  embody  every  faculty,  every t thought , every  emo- 
tion, vflaich  belongs  to  it,  in  appropriate  events.”  Emerson  goes 
on  from  this  admirable  starting  point  to  show  us  that  since  it  is 
essential  to  our  understanding  of  man  that  we  read  the  history 
which  is  the  record  of  the  "one  mind  common  to  all  individual 
men,”  it  is  requisite  that  we  know  hhow  to  read  history.  He  tells 
us  how  to  read  in  order  to  gain  this  knowledge:  "The  student  . is 
to  read  history  actively  and  not  passively;  to  esteem  his  own 
life  the  text,  and  books  the  commentary."  It  is  only  by  relating 
things  that  they  have  value  to  us.  Anything  standing  alone  is 
valueless,  as  much  as  a man  stranded  solitary  on  a deserted  island 
would  be  valueless  to  society.  When  we  read  history,  we  are  im- 
bued with  a desire  to  make  it  lifelike.  Oaesar  is  never  an  ab- 
straction to  us;  we  accompany  him  on  his  marches  through  Gaul, 
After  all,  the  material  thing,  whether  it  be  a conflict  of  armed 
men  called  forth  by  a general,  or  a book  written  by  a poet,  is 
but  a manifestation  of  the  Idea — the  God  which  is  everywhere.  'The 
spirit  of  the  man  who  directed  the  battle,  the  spirit  of  the  poet 
who  wrote  the  book,  are  one  with  ours,  for  both  emanated  from  the 
great  and  inexhaustible  Source.  This  is  the  reason  why  we  put 
ourselves  in  the  place  of  Napoleon  watching  from  his  carriage  the 
battle  at  V/aterloo;  why  we  share  with  Milton  in  feeling  the  tor- 
tures of  the  damned  souls,  creatures  of  his  creative  intellect. 


n 


Man  is  explicable  by  nothing  less  than  all  his  history. 


.-I 


1 , r ' vi:  ;a-  , ■* 

f l'5,:q.O 

'.  .V  I’  '[ 


! 


I • ...wij  , '.■'“i  lJi<  ' 


VI 


r :.>0  r»  ''.i'l 

^ 


•>.’ 


1 ;,:  I 


":  f.'.ij  , 

■ If-xiJ  »•••  ■f  V*  • 

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. ..  . .•  ■ . ’ iu*i  r,.;  wc.;  r>  ’■  0 

-••  . ■ ‘ : '4  l u-;.  ' I'irl, 


"Vi;.:A' ' * t \ ii*  ’.  • , 


, I - ' I . 


i ' )ir.‘ 


. > - 


V ’ vv  ■ : •; 

’ f-'‘.rS 

' " ..  ; C^'A  - 


1 


J ‘ » 


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Cuv//evm 

. , ' 

•y  !■  . : f.  • I ‘I 


-s'  ",  Oil'/  ■ ^4. 


■■•’ , ;•••  .-•  '.I 


i . 

' \ '■  -'/>■&:<■•  \' 


”,  ■■  > , . ,;• 

■ '.  Af:.-  wtTc'P'  r \ ••  .1  .c./j  i4-;;.Z?6^  . ?.?'#••/  C-r'! 

'r  “ '■.r^^'v  . '■',,  (,  ir,oir. , < 

-'■  ‘ ;V'r  ,'iV'  c". 

■»  ••fifi/'ri 

■ *•  D.  ‘v*  ';v  .;'  .'*>< 

hr..,,  - •>  /:•'■ ' 

, I':;;  ■'■  ' 


f}pS  ' ■'•V-  n‘'  ■ ‘ Ei’jr^'P  •'  • '» . ./' . 

V ^ .■> ...  . ',.  • s-  ■ ' :."  ■ ■ v; 


'?•!  -o  ;;Sr' 


V 


"4 


.? 


, r , 


i /•.  * ' 


K»Cf  -if  •!.'  ; ? 1'*^  f.r  ..-I'.r 

T^^'.3ru-  '-'  :■•  X-r .f  .j  . tv  .•>  v*^.. ^' - -'•  •!/'  ?:'.'*ic».^;^ii;  &4">  > *■...,  ., 


,.«J  X'it  M l :ij 


i'.A  v 


.'v’T--  ;.. / r !■  »“•%'  hr-;.  «r..-.:  - - ■,/:■'  ■•>  ":•■  ,*f,.  ' - • ^ 

, ..  . ■'.•J  - ' •'  ■ ‘W  ‘ • '■■  ' 

, Jfit,  , ..  ■ -r^O'  : -••  ■ ? . , A:?'.)'.,:  r^:::  •■  •:  '.-M,  <•.  .■  , ym-  (^:jjg:  ■ 

■ V r , , 

U«r.  • v‘  r;<y.  '■.  ■ .‘feu'-XViirtAf  ' • - '!  ■’■■""  . 'i-'if'.'Ti'flJ 

^ ' ''  ^ 

-.'?  V J .-I  ;i •.■••/  o rr^I' ' “o " / /i'  ''’  ■ 

' ' •'■  T- V f "tT'f 

■•■•':  ■’  ‘':"  'ti  V'»£ 

’ , A ‘ '■" 

L I C- .<»*?/.!■;..  i in.  ; '•  •-  , ..;,<-k; . i»f..jv;:.^  t;j,*r 


'.  f fl 

;-r». 


J. 


iC|[>i>iWi"  'Mipiifiiljfi  iiili»ii 


’iiah- 


105 

We  are  related  to  all  men,  througii  our  common  origin.  "Strasburg 
cathedral  is  a material  counterpart  of  the  soul  of  Erv/in  of  Stein- 
bach.  The  true  poem  is  the  poet’s  mind;  the  true  ship  is  the  ship- 
builder," Emerson  tells  us. 

Self-Reliance 

"Trust  thyself;  every  heart  vibrates  to  that  iron  string.” 

An  egocentric  way  of  looking  at  life  in  the  large,  perhaps;  but, 
if  this  tenet  be  guided  and  its  rigor  ameliorated  by  understand- 
ing, its  success  is  certain.  Subservience  never  wins  out.  The 
soul  is  restrained  by  hearkening  ever  to  the  counsels  of  others. 

The  intellect  declines  when  its  own  adjurations  are  not  regarded. 

If  we  would  succeed,  we  must  not  be  too  greatly  concerned  v/ith 
public  opinion.  Emerson  says  that  "What  I must  do,  is  all  that 
concerns  me;  not  what  the  people  think."  But  we  must  not  carry 
this  to  an  extreme.  Too  great  an  individualism  results  in  anarchy, 
mental  if  not  social.  No  one  can  stand  entirely  el  one.  It  is 
essential  for  our  own  selfish  best  interest  that  we  conform  some- 
what to  the  ideas  and  modes  of  life  of  others;  and  Emerson  is 
frank  enough  to  warn  us  that  "For  nonconformity  the  world  whips 
you  with  its  displeasure.”  It  has  been  previously  pointed  out 
that  it  is  naturel  for  a human  being  to  admire,  and,  in  a measure  , 
to  worship  great  men.  They  are  the  sources  of  our  inspiration; 
but  we  must  not  be  too  deferential,  too  humble,  overly  self— abas- 
ing in  the  presence,  actual  or  imagined,  of  the  great  men  of  the 
world’s  history.  "Our  reading,  Emerson  remarks,  "is  mendicant  and 
sycophantic.  In  history,  our  imagination  makes  fools  of  us,  plays 


r- 

r ■ 


•ft 


: '.r 


i V*- 


(Vij  ' aW'.'K  < 


. , ■ L -:  :t  ^U^»- 


.w-'.t!  ,;r-  1. 

f ^ 

-'■  : ■ , .-‘f , 


^-i  ■’  t r.L  ^'fv 


; ; 


iV, 


‘ r-/—  ••>  r h^'t;  i 

• .-v  ''  ‘ ' ' ' ^ ■“  , : . .i-  . . - 

”'i3 


•v.vK^  /• 


- •. 
I.L 


. f’i,  op"w‘  c.]:  'i.'V 

j :^m«  * •■  ',  ■.„  ' ' 

r 

* ■ ' '* 

0 'i';,  , Of  t od  n;:^: 

♦ ■ *T.  • "^  ■' 

J...r.T’’  .rsaljr  fHOS7 


a • . 


. . 0 4.  n ;■> ; Jvd  i'53'/'j 

r 


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♦.  1 

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• ( 


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US  false.  Kingdom  and  lordship,  power  and  estate,  are  a gaudier 
vocabulary  thah  private  John  and  Edward  in  a small  house  and  com- 
mon day's  work;  but  the  things  of  life  are  the  same  to  both;  the 
sum**total  of  both  is  the  same."  V/e  must  not  think  that  these 
great  ones  of  the  past  and  present  have  exhausted  every  possi- 
bility: ”V/hy  all  this  deference  to  Alfred,  and  Scanderbeg,  and 
Gustavus?  Suppose  they  were  virtuous;  did  they  wear  out  virtue? 

As  great  a stake  depends  upon  your  privat  e act  today , as  followed 
their  public  and  renowned  steps.  When  private  men  shall  act  with 
vast  views,  the  lustre  will  be  transferred  from  the  actions  of 
kings  to  those  of  gentlemen."  And  this  is  the  keynote  of  the 
essay:  Be  self-reliant,  but  that  need  not  mean  that  you  should  be 
egotistical.  The  egotistical  man  is  rarely  one  of  great  actions. 
Be  self-reliant  and  do  great  things,  and  you  are  one  of  the  great 

men . 

Compensat  ion 

Every  false  step  we  mate  takes  us  nearer  to  the  precipice. 
Every  good  deed  we  do  ennobles  us.  There  is  a recompense  for  all 
things*  good  and  bad.  Justice  is  inescapable.  The  king  who  made 
himself  great  by  plunder  and  ravage  is  scorned  today.  The  martyrs 
of  yesterday  are  today  saints,  booner  or  later,  your  sin  will 
find  you  out.  In  his  essay  on  "Compensation,"  Emerson  points  out 
the  evidences  of  compensatory  action  throughout  the  universe, 
material  and  spiritual.  He  gives  a host  of  examples,  which  it 
is  not  necessary  to  refer  to  heie  in  detail.  A single  citation 
of  the  method  Emerson  uses  in  presenting  evidences  of  balance. 


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of  compensation,  will  suffice:  '*An  inevitable  dualism  bisects 
nature,  so  that  each  thing  is  a half,  and  suggests  another  thing 
to  make  it  whole;  as  spirit,  matter;  man,  woman;  subjective,  ob- 
jective; in,  out;  upper,  under;  motion,  rest;  yea,  nay."  Through 
all  of  this  bipartite  division  of  the  universe,  the  soul  is  striv- 
ing to  assert  itself,  and  it  is  through  that  that  progress  is  made 
in  spite  of  the  compensatory  change  and  interchange  which  rules 
all  things:  "The  soul  strives  amain  to  live  and  work  through  all 
things.  It  would  be  the  only  fact.  All  things  shall  be  added 
unto  it, — power,  pleasure,  knowledge,  beauty." 

Spiritual  Laws 

This  striving  of  the  soul,  told  of  above,  is  not  dictated 
by  our  intellect:  "A  little  consideration  of  what  takes  place 
around  us  every  day  would  shew  us  that  a higher  law  than  that  of 
our  will  regulates  events;  that  our  painful  labours  are  very  un- 
necessary, and  altogether  fruitless;  that  only  in  our  easy,  siraule 
spontaneous  action  are  we  strong,  and  by  contenting  ourselves  with 
obedience  we  become  divine."  Emerson  would  have  us  act  in  the  my 
through  which  he  so  often  arrived  at  his  conclusion — what  has 
often  been  called  "divine  guess."  He  tells  us  that  each  of  us 
has  his  vocation,  which  will  be  pointed  out  if  we  are  natural  men, 
and  act  according  to  our  natures;  we  must  not  make  a choice  that 
results  in  a uartial  fulfilment  only;  the  entire  being  must  entbr 
into  the  real  choice:  "Until  he  can  manage  to  communicate  himself 
to  others  in  his  full  stature  and  proportion  as  a wise  and  good 
man,  he  does  not  yet  find  his  vocation."  We  must  act  according  to 
the  dictates  of  our  conscience,  and  be  guided  to  the  right  by  the 


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spiritual  laws  which  are  higher,  more  permanent,  better  than  any 
our  intellect  can  formulate. 

Friendship 

”1  awoke  this  morning  v/ith  devout  thanksgiving  for  my 
friends,  the  old  and  the  new,"  Emerson  says;  and  describes  what 
to  him  is  good  and  noble  and  true  in  friendship;  "Pleasant  are 
these  ,1ets  of  affection,  which  relume  a young  world  for  me  again. 
Delicious  is  a ijust  and  firm  encounter  of  two  in  a thought,  in  a 
feeling.  How  beautiful,  on  their  approach  to  this  beating  heart, 
the  steps  and  forms  of  the  gifted  and  the  true’."  These  friends 
are  God— given,  Emerson  would  have  us  understand.  It  is  through 
them  that  we  progress,  because  the  word,  the  action,  of  a true 
friend,  is  a help  to  the  evolution  of  our  own  souls;  and  there  is 
a great  value  which  we  should  place  on  the  friend;  "Ho  advantages 
no  powers,  no  gold  or  force  can  be  any  match  for  him."  A friend, 
as  we  have  seen,  can  be  of  the  greatest  use  to  us;  but  this  use 
we  must  not  seek  to  make  temporary,  or  have  it  materialize  too 
soon.  Bonds  stronger  than  those  of  temporal  utility  must  bind  us 
and  our  friends,  if  we  would  have  the  ri^t  to  call  them  friends. 
Friendships  should  not  be  things  of  passions,  should  not  move 
like  the  avalanche,  but  should  be  like  "the  Haturlangsamkeit , 
which  hardens  the  ruby  in  a million  years,  and  works  in  duration, 
in  which  prized,  perhaps,  of  all  virtues,  and  it  is  with  the 
friend  that  we  can  best  afford  to  be  utterly  and  absolutely  sin- 
cere. V'/e  must  stand  in  true  relations  to  him.  Our  hearts  must 


be  as  one,  ere  the  advantage  of  friendship  may  be  d&rived. 


109 


Prudence 

What  is  it  to  he  prudent?  Is  it  always  to  hesitate  before 
we  carry  out  in  action  a plan  we  have  formulated  in  thought?  Is 
prudence  merely  lack  of  sudden  decision?  Emerson  says  that  "Pru- 
dence is  the  virtue  of  the  senses.  It  is  the  science  of  appear- 
ances. It  is  the  outmost  action  of  the  inward  life.  It  is  God 
taking  thought  for  oxen.  It  moves  matter  after  the  laws  of  mat- 
ter. It  is  content  to  seek  health  of  body  by  complying  with 
physical  conditions,  and  health  of  mind  by  the  laws  of  the  intel- 
lect." But  v/e  must  beware,  in  being  what  we  think  is  prudent, 
that  we  do  not  regulate  our  acts  by  "the  spurious  prudence,  mak- 
ing the  senses  final,"  which,  Emerson  would  have  us  know,  "is  the 
god  of  sots  and  cowards,  and  is  the  subject  of  all  comedy.”  Re- 
solved in  its  ultimate  analysis,  we  find  a strikingly  close  con- 
nection between  real  prudence,  as  Emerson  sees  it,  and  self-re- 
liance. The  prudent  man,  like  the  self-reliant  man,  does  not 
depend  upon  what  others  do  or  say  entirely,  but  "takes  the  laws 
of  the  world,  whereby  man’s  being  is  conditioned,  as  they  are, 

, n 

and  keeps  these  laws,  that  (he)  may  enjoy  their  proper  good. 

If  a man  is  confronted  with  a duty  which  he  must  do  or  leave,  as 
his  choice  dictates,  what  is  prudence  then?  Is  it  in  taking  half 
measures,  in  equivocation?  No;  "prudence  does  not  consist  in 
evasion,  or  in  flight,  but  in  courage.  He  who  wishes  to  walk  in 
the  most  peaceful  parts  of  life  with  an  serenity  must  screw  him- 
self up  to  a resolution,  iet  him  front  the  object  of  his  worst 
apprehension,  and  his  stoutness  will  commonly  make  his  fear 
groundless."  Hereaagain,  we  see  the  relationship  of  prudence 


t I f r ; , ri 

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ii 


110 


and  self-reliance.  With  Polonius,  we  might  well  say  "To  thine 
own  self  be  true;  It  follows  then  as  night  the  day,  thou  oanst 
not  then  he  false  to  any  man. 


Heroism 

The  courage  which  it  takes  to  make  a decision  such  as  the 
truly  prudent  man  is  often  called  upon  to  formulate,  is  well  des- 
cribed by  Emerson  in  his  essay  on  "Heroism."  Ihis  quality,  or 
state  of  being,  seems,  like  beauty,  to  be  its  own  excuse  for 
being;  "There  is  somewhat  in  great  actions,  which  does  not  allow 
us  to  ge  behind  them.  Heroism  feels  and  newer  reasons,  and  there 
fore  is  always  right."  Emerson  seems  to  have  the  idea  of  self- 
reliance  frequently  in  mind,  for  notes  of  it  appear  frequently  in 
"Heroism".  This,  however,  one  might  expect;  heroism  is  scarcely 
possible  for  the  man  who  shrinks,  who  does  not  trust  himself  or 


his  own  convictions  and  thoughts.  "Self-trust."  Emerson  tells 
us,  "is  the  essence  of  Heroism.  It  is  the  state  of  the  soul  at 
war;  and  its  ultimate  objects  are  the  last  defiance  of  falsehood 
and  wrong,  and  the  power  to  bear  all  that  can  be  inflicted  by 
evil  a^nts."  Heroism  is  always  bold,  persistent;  the  hero  is  ^ 
kind  to  his  enemies,  careless  of  renown  or  disrepute,  truthful, 
and  just.  He  is  strong  in  his  own  strength,  and  neither  needs 
nor  asks  shelter.  Heroism  is  good  humored  and  hilarious  in  its 
deeds:  "It  is  a height  to  which  common  duty  can  very  wSll  attain 
to  suffer  and  to  dare  with  solemnity.  But  these  rare  souls  get 
opinion,  success , and  life,  at  so  cheap  a rate,  that  they  will 
not  soothe  their  enemies  by  petitions,  or  the  show  of  sorrow, 
but  wear  their  own  habitual  greatness."  All  men  are  at  times 


Ill 


noble  and  exhibit  touches  of  heroism  in  their  actions;  but  these 
fits  wherein  one  acts  beyond  his  own  nature  are  fleeting;  it  is 
reserved  for  him  of  truly  heroic  spirit  to  be  consistent  and  per- 
sistent; to  exhibit  always,  at  all  times  and  in  all  situations, 
those  characters  which  make  for  heroism--to  show  such  a front  to 
all  adversity  that  it  scorns  all  deception,  ruse,  and  convenience. 

The  Over-Soul — 

The  idea  of  God  permeating  all  things  is  found  in  Emerson’s 
essay  on  "The  Over-Soul".  He  says:  "....within  man  is  the  soul 
of  the  whole;  the  wise  silence;  the  universal  beauty,  to  which 
every  part  and  particle  is  equally  related;  the  eternal  ONE."  We 
are  led  to  see  that  the  Over-soul,  that  part  of  us  which  is  above 
and  beyond  the  outer  man,  tells  us  that  we  are  as  nothing  in  the 
huge  cosmogony  of  the  universe.  We  are  led  to  this  discovery  by 
the  fact  that  the  "soul  in  man  is  not  an  organ,  but  animates  and 
exercises  all  the  organs;  is  not  a function,  like  the  power  of 
memory,  of  calculation,  of  comparison, — ^but  uses  these  as  hands 
and  feet;  is  not  a faculty,  but  a light;  is  not  the  intellect  or 
the  will,  but  the  master  of  the  intellect  and  the  will;  is  the 

r 

vast  background  of  our  being,  in  which  they  lie, — an  immensity  not 
possessed  and  that  can  not  be  possessed."  Our  real  respect  for  and 
admiration  of  man  is  not  directed  to  his  functions,  the  activities 
of  his  organs  of  mind  or  body,  but  to  the  real  man  which  is  a].  1 
of  these  and  more  than  these.  We  are  interested  not  in  what  he 
does,  but  in  what  he  is.  Man, --that  concordance  and  manifestation 
of  nature — is  not  the  animal  which  thinks,  but  the  physical  vessel 
in  which  is  the  spark  emanated  from  the  Divine  All. 

-1 


f! 


112 


G i re  le  s 

The  old  saying  that  "there  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun" 
is  carried  out  by  Emerson  in  "Circles,"  He  tells  us  that  Every 
ultimate  fact  is  only  the  first  of  a new  series."  Qur  life  is 
a perpetuation  and  repetition.  We  live  as  others  did;  others, 
in  all  essentials,  shall  live  as  we  do.  As  in  his  essay  on  "Hist- 
ory," here  we  find  the  thou^t  that  man  is  the  real  actor,  not  the 
circumstances  or  events  in  which  he  has  a part.  But  for  all  that 
man  does,  representing  himself,  giving  us  an  image  of  the  life 
of  a dweller  in  ancient  Athens,  or  a precursor  of  what  is  to  come, 
he  "is  not  so  much  a v/orieman  in  the  world  as  he  is  a suggestion 
of  that  he  should  he.  Men  walk  as  prophecies  of  the  next  age." 

Emerson  mrns  us  that  a thinker  is  the  most  dangerous  and  vital 
force  God  can  put  on  earth.  Right  thinking  rouses  and  raises, 
had  thinking  depresses  and  lowers.  In  our  circles  of  life,  in 
which  we  move  and  live  and  do,  can  come  a force,  the  creation  of 
a thinker,  which  can  give  reputation  or  destroy  it.  W'hat  is  nec- 
essary, then?  It  is  to  "make  the  verge  of  today  the  new  centre." 

intellect  j 

As  we  have  seen  that  man’s  real  course  in  life  is  deters 

mined  hy  the  soul,  or  Over-soul,  in  the  sense  that  the  soul,  which 
is  the  manifestation  of  the  guiding  spirit  of  all,  is  master  of 
man’s  acts  and  thoughts,  so  too  shall  we  see  that  one  of  the  func- 
tions controlled  hy  that  s oul--namely , the  intellect  can  and 

does  have  a great  deal  to  do  with  determining  his  course  of  life. 
What  is  the  hardest  task  in  the  world?"  the  essayist  asks;  and 


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replies.  ”To  think".  He  tells  us  further  that  we  have  but  little 
means  of  keeping  the  thoughts  we  think  where  we  want  them  to  lie. 
This  seems  to  be  almost  beyond  our  power,  because  "we  are  the 
prisoners  of  ideas.  They  catch  us  up  for  moments  into  their  heaven 
and  so  fully  engage  us,  that  we  take  no  thought  for  the  morrow, 
gaze  like  children,  without  an  effort  to  make  them  our  own. 

Emerson  tells  us  that  it  is  as  hard  to  find  the  truth  in  our 
thoughts  by  going  into  the  world  of  open  air  nature  as  it  is  to 
sit  us  down  in  our  libraries  to  ponder:  "Yet  thoughts  are  flitting 
before  him"  in  spite  of  the  difficulty  we  have  in  catching  them. 

How  to  use  the  intellect,  then,  is  our  problem.  Without  the  propei 
understanding  of  its  usage,  we  are  informed,  all  else  avails  us 
not  at  all:  "The  difference  between  persons  is  not  in  wisdom,  but 
in  art."  We  are  advised,  then,  to  have  a constructive  intellect. 

A genius  is  valueless  unless  he  can  put  on  paper  or  into  seme 
working  form,  be  it  machinery  or  politics,  the  inspirations  he 
receives.  Here  is  the  idea  contained  so  many  places  in  Emerson, 
the  material  world  is  a phenomenon  of  the  Idea,  and  is  not  essen- 
tial from  the  point  of  view  of  the  giver  of  the  idea;  but  often  ^ 
this  phenomenal  materialization  is  needful,  if  we  would  apprehend 
the  idea.  Hmerson  gives  us  the  v/hole  thing  briefly  thus:  ¥/hen 

the  spiritual  energy  is  directed  on  something  outward,  then  is 
it  a thought."  Relationship,  here  as  elsewhere,  we  see  is  the 
ultimate  essential,  Absolute  intellection  musu  have  its  efflu- 
ence in  action.  The  idea  must  be  represented  in  constructive 

thought . 


Haiti': 


•HU 


■>  't;.r’.,.  '_»j  S.;\  jf(^'<iri  ;((«  iSW.  **‘^*4*  , -;,  11^  .-^XX^ ' W . JSOi.  ; 


^.;¥--'  , r - i#-’  ■ V.  • 

! ( A ..r.X  ' ,-.  • ^ 'A'  - .1  . l''’’  ' ‘ •-  ■ i-  V'^A.X'ct!  “-  I 


ti'  ' tfitiV  ■*•'.•/•  r .*.?ra  :^'if.r 

,y  ; ' . • ',  i- 


Ti^\ :-i\.  :>  J 

'•  i ■ i ■ . . \ r ) ' 

lluy;;.(»  •:-?-'  " i^pKyop  %ii  t^'/ ili " '•  'i5r*,4.-JJ«  m 

\-  -’■  ■-  ■ ■ ' - ' ’-‘i  ,■•  ■■;.  ‘^-■•^  ''■  ■.■'  * 

'•  - of-v  tjx  ,■»  »i,M!  'Sfii>.i  fc.ft  pi  "oiiil'STy-Jsc' ' 

t ' -*•  *■'  rt  '-  ' * -'.,  : ' ,'  '.  '’  i^'*'  '■*  3- 

, nk^  -.“.(Tp.  : •)  y.  .1  • u4'jJ;CtO'3E^lt  *t ■ tdat/'O-^.  es#,,c«^'iVi6^"'‘i 


U '.  ''A. 


!%5i  L 


^ ' .;  f ^ ^ ;>i,'  .;  ._  i: 

: ..  iJ.I; V.,.;: - Jv-li- _ ■ ■ 


■Wi’t  e aw!'  ''/", eaj#'-''. i^lt-iifi:'im'  ttt'  ' 

: , i.  ■>.  ■■'  '■  ■ .'!■  •■:  ■ ■"m  ..  " 


ilifci  '‘' ' ' ‘i"^'*  .'.''f‘  ' i '4 

i t'.'Ji'.-v.  ' ■ •■•■''':'■ 'r.'^^iir  .■.  ■ ' 

I.'  vVr  "f 


“ .<*  1 


TY-''  •' 


, ■ .;  ;':/,V  ''j'/l 


...»  . . .-I,,  y 


x. 


^.>r' 


.■«  •'.  ‘..W  ,'.■'  '.  ,L,irdr,‘> 


lU 


There  is  not  only  a use  in  experience,  but  a pleasure, 
Emerson  w uld  have  us  understand.  It  is  obvious  that  we  always 
gain  through  Experience,  that  hard,  but  profitable  teacher;  but 
in  addition  to  this  is  the  element  of  surprise;  "Life  is  a series 
of  surprises,  and  would  not  be  worth  talcing  or  keeping,  if  it 
were  not.  God  delights  to  isolate  us  every  day,  and  hide  from 
us  the  past  and  the  future."  The  one  thing  that  determines  what 
our  lives  shall  be,  since  experience  is  or  may  be,  common  to  all, 
is  the  temperament  of  the  individual.  Life  is  a series  of  sur- 
prises, yes;  but  hear  Emerson  further:  "Life  is  a train  of  moods 
like  a string  of  beads,  and  as  we  pass  through  them,  they  prove 
to  be  many-coloured  lenses  which  paint  the  world  their  own  hue, 
and  each  shows  only  what  lies  in  its  focus."  This  is  ohe  very 
idea  contained  in  the  statement  that  "life  is  nature  seen  throu^ 
the  lens  of  temperament."  It  is  the  way  in  which  we  look  upon 
our  experiences  that  colors  and  determines  what  profit  we  shall 
make  of  them.  Eortunate  the  man  whose  temperament  is  not  such 
that  it  limits  his  outlook  upon  life,  or  prevents  him  from  making 
the  most  salutary  use  of  his  experiences;  and  the  fate  of  him  to 
whom  temperament  is  a restraint  only  is  regrettable.  Emerson  says 
that  "Temperament  is  the  veto  or  limitation -power  in  the  consti- 
tution," and  we  readily  see  that  it  is  such.  The  man  whose  tem- 
perament is  of  the  sort  that  he  can  weigh  and  ,iudge  his  exper- 
iences, may  classify  them,  look  upon  them  through  a lens  that 
colors  them  in  bright  hues  that  are  unmistakable,  and  profit  there 
by,  He  who  can  not  do  so  has  his  vision  obscured  always. 


115 


Oharaoter 

What  is  character^  Emerson  tells  us  that  it  is  "a  reserved 
force  which  acts  directly  by  presence,  and  without  means.  It 
is  conceived  of  as  a certain  undemonstrahl e force,  a Familiar  or 
Genius,  by  whose  impulses  the  man  is  guided,  but  whose  counsels 
he  cannot  impart;  which  is  company  for  him,  so  that  such  men  are 
often  solitary,  or  if  they  chance  to  be  social,  do  not  need 
society,  but  can  entertain  themselves  very  well  alone.  "It  is 
this  difference  in  character  which  to  a large  extent  determines 
the  capabilities  of  a man.  One  man  succeeds,  it  seems,  by  sheer 
plodding;  and  another  by  intuition  or  sheer  intellect.  In  either 
case  character  is  at  the  bottom  of  the  matter.  Power  of  char- 
acter in  a man  we  can  see  and  evaluate  in  all  activities.  It 
is  apparent  in  politics,  in  business,  in  art.  One  man’s  character 
influences  not  only  his  deeds,  but  those  of  others.  This  is  a 
force  which  determines  activities,  and  may  direct  results  of 
great  moment.  When  we  meet  a person  of  power  in  character,  we 
are  aware  of  it  as  v/ell  as  if  we  looked  upon  a man  of  great  phy- 
si  cal  strength.  It  dominates  and  colors  and  gives  tone  to  his 
actions,  so  that  his  will  expresses  itself  in  all  he  does.  If 
the  character  of  those  in  association  with  him  is  weak,  then  that 
character  must  give  way  to  the  stronger.  But  after  all,  it  is 
the  effect  of  and  the  value  in  character  to  the  individual  which 
is  of  most  vital  importance,  rather  than  What  this  character  can 
be  as  a determiner  to  others;  and  in  this  relation  Emerson  tells 
us  that  "No  change  of  circumstances  can  repair  a defect  of  char- 
acter*" and  further  "Character  is  cdntrality,  the  impossibility 


V i';i 


ii6 

Qf  b©in^  displ8.06d  or  oversG't.”  Thon  , our  ch-arixctor  is  strong, 
GO  rrespond in^  will  b©  our  'treulinsn't  of  fh©  orobl©rns  which  com© 
up,  and  which  it  is  essential  for  each  to  solve;  if  v/eak,  we 
again  se©  a corresponding  result.  The  reason  for  this  is  plain, 
Emerson  feels,  and  gives  it  to  us  in  unmistakable  terras.  He  tells 
us  that:  "Character  repudiates  intellect,  yet  excites  it;  and 
character  passes  into  thought,  is  published  so,  and  then  is  ash- 
amed before  new  flashes  of  moral  worth." 

Manners 

Certainly  one  of  the  things  determined  by  character  is 
represented  in  our  manners.  In  fact,  manners  represent  character 
in  its  entire  being,  because  it  is  through  manners  that  character 
is  shown.  "Manners  aim  to  facilitate  life,"  Emerson  would  have 
us  know;  "to  get  rid  of  impediments,  and  bring  the  man  pure  to 
energise."  The  manners  of  the  master  determine  the  manners  of 
the  slave,  because  character  is  conveyed  through  those  manners. 

If  a political  leader  does  a certain  thing,  his  constituents  or 
followers  are  influenced  to  do  likewise.  Imitation  of  manners 
made  the  old  house  servant  in  the  pre-war  South  of  the  United 
States  a gentleman,  regardless  of  color.  But  what  happens  when 
master  men,  men  of  high  character,  fully  conveyed  in  manners, 
meet  and  associates  with  one  another?  Then  we  see  another,  and 
better  effect  of  manners  as  representative  of  character;  "The 
association  of  these  masters  with  each  other,  and  with  men  in- 
telligent of  their  merits,  is  mutually  agreeable  and  stimulating. 
The  good  forms,  the  happiest  expressions  of  each,  are  repeated 
and  adopted." 


/ 


117 

Gifts 

"The  only  gift,”  Emerson  assures  us,  ”is  a portion  of  they- 
self.”  The  ring,  the  bit  of  gold,  the  ,1eweled  bauble,  is  not  a 
gift  as  Emerson  sees  it.  It  is  not  representative  of  its  giver, 
any  more  than  the  artificial  manners  of  the  actor  on  the  stage  are 
indicative  of  the  character  of  the  actor.  It  is  only  when  a rf.ft 
is  personal,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word,  that  it  is  a true 
gift.  Y/hat  are  these  personal  gifts?  Let  Emerson  answer:  ”.... 
the  poet  brings  his  poem;  the  shephered,  his  lamb;  the  farmer, 
com;  the  miner,  a gem;  the  sailor,  coral  and  shells;  the  painter, 
his  picture;  the  girl,  a handkerchief  ofher  own  sewing.”  It  would 
seem  that  Emerson  believes  that  the  character  of  the  owner  is  ex- 
pressed only  in  such  gifts;  that  we  gain  nothing  from  our  friend 
when  he  gives  us  a gook  he  has  not  written,  a chain  he  has  not 
fashioned.  ”He  is  a good  man  who  can  receive  a gift  well,”  Emer- 
son avers,  and  tells  us  that  it  is  not  a good  thing,  often,  to 
receive  gifts,  even  those  of  the  personal  nature;  but  he  adds  that 
”I  fear  to  breathe  any  treason  against  the  majesty  of  love,  which 
is  the  genius  and  god  of  aifts,  and  to  whom  we  must  not  affect  to 
prescribe.  Let  him  give  kingdoms  or  flower-leaves  indifferently. 
There  are  persons  from  whom  we  always  expect  fairy  tokens;  let  us 
not  cease  to  expect  them.” 

Politics 

In  solitude  or  not;  lost  An  our  considerations  of  the  Beyond; 
wherever  our  thoughts  may  dwell  usually,  or  wherever  our  desires 
direct  them,  we  must  always  keep  an  open  and  attentive  eye  for 
politics.  Our  life  in  the  state  of  civilization,  among  other  beings 


7^  W* 


>. ’i 


If 


■■  / a ,.,  I# , 't iv>M;..  ^ ^ ^ >' 

'>  • - 1 ■"'a  *’  r-  p , ■ . ’*■  I . 


p'l  ^ 


*-'■1 


U.-  ' ■ :<a^; 

•V*'  I.' 


.«#'  -<iA.i  '9  !-.'f  'Jf' 'tB'*;  Sc,  ^ 

, ■ . v^  ' p ■'  ^ :i: ''t,  i ■ ''‘'p’  ^^.'.^''•'‘^:.'V m.,:  ^ 


■ ( '’  " ' ■ ^ 4*‘  ^*'  ' r* -*  i,v"r-'  * '(V'  ’ ’ ' ' ' ' ''■l  '^p'  '"  '~  '*■'  ''  - '*  !/?  \ -'  »‘'''*  ' • 

" ti^p' ' '^^p  ^ 

m. . ?v" 


I 

■Ip  ^ 


• 'irj  ,.-k 


118 


is  directed  by  politics;  and  it  behooves  ns  to  understand  some- 
what of  them.  "Politics  rest  on  necessary  foundations,”  Emerson 
assures  us,  "and  can  not  be  treated  with  levity."  The  state  is 
politics,  viewed  as  one  must  see  it  to  understand  it.  Its  func- 
tion is  seeing  that  the  people  comprising  it  and  giving  it  being 
and  authority,  are  cared  for.  The  people  are  the  only  interest 
of  the  state,  viewed  in  the  last  analysis.  ^11  political  con- 
siderations which  involve  property  are  but  incidental,  for,  Ene  r- 
son  says,  "property  will  always  follow  persons.”  There  is  no 
property  without  personality.  This  is  true  even  in  the  common 
property  such  as  a park,  the  natural  national  resources,  ail  save 
the  spirit  and  aspect  of  Nature  itself,  which  man  can  never  own. 
Emerson  warns,  however,  that  politics  must  not  be  too  greatly 
concerned  with  limiting  persons,  which  are  its  real  interest,  be- 
cause "The  boundaries  of  personal  influence  it  is  impossible  to 
fix,  as  persons  are  organs  of  moral  or  supernatural  force;"  and 
in  this  statement  one  finds  the  relationship  Emerson  carries 
through  in  almost  everything  he  writes — ^-^an  is  but  a symbol  and 
a representation  of  something  higher  and  greater,  and  this  is 
manifested  even  in  his  politics. 

Nominalist  and  Realist 

Genius,  in  the  opinion  of  Emerson,  or  entire  lack  of  it, 
is  of  much  more  frequent  occurrence  than  mediocrity;  and  the  per- 
fectly balanced  man,  he  believes,  does  not  exist:  "Great  men,  or 
men  of  great  gifts,  you  shall  easily  find,  but  symmetrical  men 
never."  '<^hat  is  there  which  is  real,  and  what  is  only  an  inven- 
tion? Emerson  says  that  "'^ur  exaggeration  of  all  fine  characters 


^■»> ' "’  ■.I'”  • ' awm^ 

rK;i£f’  ' \ , •!'  '-■•  ■ .•'  •^..•'. ■ ,»••■■'  : ' I/,,". , y-  A . v,‘‘  ' ‘''^^4?  • .' 

♦ - ■'  ' - ^’*  ' • ’ ' \ • ;'■  J *' iirtcl§i uy**  01  :'S  ^>'  • 

, •..rt^wn^jfoj.  li«,  ; V'*' 

7 V > •'  ’.  -V.  \ • ’ >'  ■ .•.■•,»>*&  . . . 4j,,'»  • - ■■  ."'■  ' ^ ' '■■  ' A*’,.'..‘ "' ‘i'i 


' .7.  , ^y  > ^ ■ * -3  ; '■’  ’ ?r  *•  BiiHipiiii  -idtumr^^ — '"'.iv  " 


119 

arises  from  the  fact  that  we  identify  each  in  turn  with  the  soul. 
But  there  are  no  such  men  as  we  fable;  no  Jesus,  nor  Pericles, 
nor  Caesar,  nor  Angelo,  nor  vVashington,  such  as  we  have  made. 

We  consecrate  a great  deal  of  nonsense,  because  it  was  allowed 
by  great  men.  There  is  none  without  his  foible."  "I  verily 
believe,  " he  humorously  adds,  "if  an  angel  should  come  to  chaunt 
the  chorus  of  the  moral  law,  he  would  eat  too  much  gingerbread, 
or  take  liberties  with  private  letters,  or  do  some  precious 
atrocity.”  Your  nominalist  creates  these  men,  your  realist  speaks 
of  them  as  Emerson  above:  "Our  native  love  of  reality  .loins  with 
this  experience  to  teach  us  a little  reserve,  and  to  dissuade  a 
too  sudden  surrender  to  the  brilliant  qmalities  of  person;"  and 
further,  he  sa.ys  that  "In  the  famous  disoute  with  the  Niaminalist s, 
the  Realists  had  a good  deal  of  reason."  But  this  is  not  unalter- 
able fiat;  and  Emerson  hastens  to  tell  us,  in  particular,  that 
"After  taxing  Goethe  as  a courtier,  artificial,  unbelieving, 
worldly,  I took  up  his  book  of  Helena,  and  found  him  an  Indian  of 
the  wilderness,  a piece  of  pure  nature  like  an  aople  or  an  oak, 
large  as  morning  or  night,  and  virtuous  as  a briar-rose."  What 
then,  is  needful,  if  we  would  escape  the  evil  of  inclining  too 
much  in  either  direction.?  We  have  seen  that  there  is  no  perfectly 
balanced  or  symmetrical  man;  but  we  can  hope  to  approach  a bal- 
ance. Emerson,  in  giving  a pointer  to  us  in  our  search  for  the 
mid-ground  betv/een  nominalism  and  realism,  both  of  which  are 
variants  from  actuality,  says:  "I  would  have  no  work  of  no 

speech,  or  action,  or  thought,  or  friend,  but  the  best."  And 
this  we  can  take  as  being  the  sense  of  all  that  is  contained  in 


the  essays  of  this  series:  -i^roper  relationship,  proper  selection, 
is  to  be  our  guide. 

Our  intellectual  home  is  -f^^ngland,  -i^erson  frequently  re- 
minds us;  it  is  there  the  eyes  of  him  imbued  with  travel-lust 
(with  v/hich  iiraerson  is  not  greatly  in  sympathy)  oftenest  turn. 

This  is,  of  course,  but  natural,  and  what  might  be  expected,  since 
America  is  after  all  a colony  of  lingland.  Revolution  or  no  Revol- 
ution. Perhaos,  in  I833.  when  Emerson  first  visited  England,  it 
was  more  tiuie  than  it  is  today  that  the  American  traveler  is  deep- 
ly interested  in  Great  Britian.  '^orld-v/ide  travel  since  that  day 
has  taken  the  man  inspired  with  the  fever  to  see,  into  all  parts 
of  the  ^lobe ; and  commonly  his  visit  to  England  is  social,  rather 

Our  Interest  than  educational.  But  no  matter  if  the  trav- 

In  'En>land 

eler  who  has  been  so  fortunate  as  to  see  all 
parts  of  the  world,  has  taken  advantage  of  the  opoortunity  to  go 
to  Asia,  Africa,  southern  Europe  or  Bouth  America  before  England, 
he  is  always  asked,  when  speaking  of  his  travels;  "How  do  you  like 
England?  Did  you  go  to  Stratford-on-Avon?  How  does  old  Johnny 
Bull  at  home  suit  you?"  The  reason  for  our  interest  in  England 
and  all  that  is  British,  is  easily  explicable.  Vife  speak  the  same 
language,  our  political  institutions,  despite  the  ermine  of  George 
or  the  raving  of  the  yellow  press  of  America,  are  greatly  alike. 
The  student  in  America  is  nurtured  on  British  mental  food.  He 
knows  Dickens  as  well  as  0.  Henry;  he  is  as  familiar  with  Words- 
worth as  with  Poe;  and  who  is  there  among  us  English -speakers  in 
this  colony  removed  Gaesar-like  from  the  mother,  who  does  not 
claim  Shakespeare  as  his  o\m  fiilly  as  much  as  any  man’s  across  the 


jr  -.1  ■ r 'V,  V.. . ■'■iMPit'  V ■ : '0,  •,  , •■  ' j<  'K 

f =ii'-'iW-  ;i  '-^f;  ■■■  ■•  ' ■ ■'■  -'rp 

f.y'  ■ ^ ' “^''v?.‘-i  V . ' ^^' •'  ' 'i  '“  . ' 

h y^i; 


7A% 


k' 


ist^i -i'^ ^ ii  . -t<;^  • V 'flf ' Us?;  -i  rt<  ,*  *ve^-'  i'r’ 

3Bfe4"-..>'i^..:  .•'=■■  .'•.  '/'■'■ ''.'^iii  •'.•■.  ./■  . v:M  v-> 

•-?.f , ’ -■■  ■ ’■  '-■  '‘f-.'M 

^'{  ‘ V'~~ ^t't^".ij|j;y.; ,'V  iEi^yff,'jj'.Aj|P-ii,.  ■ "■M,‘*  ..;v:;yry^y»  ■w.iipi.  . 


sea? 


121 


Emerson^  s I 
Indebtedness 


We  are  undoubtedly  attracted  chiefly  by  the  men  of  England. 
Unless  he  be  anbassador  or  charge  d'affaires,  your  traveller  cares 
little  or  nothing  for  the  politics  and  political  institutions  of 
the  country  in  which  he  travels;  but  he  is  eager  to  see  the  people 
who  support  tiiose  institutions;  and  Emerson,  we  may  be  sure,  felt 
the  urge  more  strongly,  than  those  of  us  who  have  not  the  first- 
hand interest  in  literature  and  in  literary  men  that  dominated 

him.  He  says,  speaking  of  his  first  visit  to 
England:  "Like  most  young  men  of  that  time,  I 
was  much  indebted  to  the  men  of  Edinburgh,  and  of  the  Edinburgh 

Review to  Jeffrey,  Mackintosh,  Hallam  , and  to  Scott,  Playfair, 

and  De  Quincey,  and  my  narrow  and  desultory  reading  had  inspired 
the  wish  to  see  the  faces  ff  three  or  four  writers— Coleridge , 
Wordsworth,  Landor,  De  Quincey,  and  the  latest  and  strongest  con- 
tributor to  the  critical  journals,  Carlyle;  and  I suppose  if  I 
had  sifted  the  reasons  that  led  me  to  Europe,  when  I was  ill  and 
was  advised  to  travel,  it  was  mainly  the  attraction  of  these  per- 
sons." 

However,  Emerson  describes  in  considerable  detail  various 
characteristics  of  the  English  people,  telling  us  of  their  modes 
of  life,  habits,  whims  and  fancies,  in  a manner  that  differs 
somewhat  from  his  usual  essay  style,  in  that  he  has  recourse  to  a 
great  deal  of  pure  description  and  exposition. 

After  remarks  relative  to  the  racial  descent  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  British  Isles,  with  which  we  are  not  primarily 

Abilities  of  concerned  in  this  paper,  Emerson  goes  on  to  tell 

The  English” 


122 


of  the  abilities  of  the  people.  He  finds  them  possessed  of  out- 
standing abilities  in  the  fields  of  literature,  science,  politics, 
art.  Each  of  these  abilities  comes  to  them  from  a different 
source.  Politically  and  in  war  they  owe  their  prowess  to  their 
Norse  ancestry;  the  Homan  invasion  is  responsible  for  much  of 
their  art,  particularly  the  ecclesiastical,  although  this  influ- 
ence descended  directly  through  the  Hermans,  who  were  part  ViKing 
as  well.  Hut  whatever  his  abilities,  each  Britisher  considers 
that  he  must  have  some  skill;  and  the  keynote  of  the  division 
"Abilities"  in  the  series  of  essays  on  English  traits  is  contained 
"Excel  in  at  in  the  following:  "When  Ihor  and  his  cot- 

• _ ft 

pan  ions  arrived  at  Utgard,  he  is  told  that 


Least~Qne  THing" 


»nobody  is  permitted  to  remain  here,  unless  he  understand  some  art, 
and  excel  in  it  all  other  men.”  '^he  same  question  is  still  put 
to  the  posterity  of  ^hor.  A nation  of  labourers,  every  man  is 
trained  to  some  one  art  or  detail,  and  aims  at  perfection  in  that; 
not  content  unless  he  has  something  in  which  he  thinks  he  sur- 
passes all  other  men.  He  would  rather  not  do  anything  at  all, 
than  not  do  it  well.  I suppose  no  people  have  such  thoroughness;  — 
from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  every  man  meaning  to  be  master 

of  his  art. 

In  speaking  of  the  manners  of  the  English,  Ei^erson  says  that 
he  finds  "the  Englishman  to  be  him  of  all  men  who  stands  firmest 
in  his  shoes,"  and  adds  the  attitude  of  the  Britisher  toward 
others;  "They  require  you  to  dare  to  he  of  your  ovm  opinion,  and 
they  hate  the  praotieal  cowards  who  cannot  in  affairs  answer 
directly  yes  or  no."  Perhaps  the  most  significant  description  of 


: C. 


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Tone  of 

The~3e~H8  3ays 


the  iSnglish  given  in  the  chapter  "Marmera"  is  the  following. 

"They  are  positive,  methodioal,  cleanly  and  formal,  lovin g rout Ine , 

and  conventional  ways;  loving  truth  and  re- 
ligion, to  be  sure,  but  inexorable  on  points 
of  form.”  In  this  part  of  our  paper  on  Emerson,  no  effort  is  made 
to  analyze,  as  has  been  done  previously,  because  the  entire  group 
of  his  essays  on  "English  Traits”  stand  out  by  themselves,  separ- 
ate and  distinct  in  tone  and  manner  fromhis  customary  essay,  such 
as  we  have  heretofore  considered;  and  so  a quotation  or  two, 
illustrative  of  the  central  idea  in  each  of  these  chapters,  I 
deem  about  all  that  is  necessary  in  order  to  depict  understandably 
the  way  in  which  Emerson  criticised  Tingland  and  the  English. 

He  says  that  "The  Teutonic  tribes  have  a national  single- 
ness of  heart,  which  contrasts  with  the  Latin  races.  The  German 
"National  name  has  a proverbial  significance  of  sincerity 

and  honest  meaning.  The  arts  hear  testimonyyto 
it.  The  faces  of  clergy  and  laity  in  old 
sculptures  and  illuminated  missals  are  charged  with  earnest  be- 
lief." These  same  traits  characterise  the  Englishman  of  today, 
and  the  following  quotation  Emerson  feels  may  apply  also:  "The 
Northman  Guttorm  said  to  Eing  Olaf , ’it  is  royal  work  to  fulfill 
royal  words.”  Probity,  then,  is  an  outstanding  characteristic 

of  the  English. 

A brief  but  pithy  description  of  the  character  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  British-lsles  is  given  in  the  eighth  division 
of  "English  Traits,  where  Emerson  reports  that  the  English  race 
are  said  to  be  morose,  and  adds:  ”I  do  not  know  that  they  have 


'■  &i®  i 

r,,S‘  -^,\h<S  iio  ,,, I ;rn  , <i*'W'i  ^s’'v!!^ij.--i;4ri'|  ••,. 


• T . . - ‘^.  ■*  '-■  ■ ^ : .^  . ‘ ■■•-'’'I  ■ ‘■'■*^/'''*3 

'■.■.iliJL'J'Ji  ,'^A:  J-'-^’i ' ■^'*' ''  rtfvf.a 


.'  r V//'. -*!.!■ '■' 


';•  ■ h< 


I , 


:5i.' 


■f  ,1.  , _ V'  , 

LV'  ;«'Jiti4.:AM»’^  .'.  ,A,  ^ . « Kti.  Jh‘:Ai>a;<' 


124 


sadder  brows  than  their  neighbors  of  northern  climates.  They  are 
sad  by  comparison  with  the  singing  and  dancing  nations;  not  sadder 
but  slow  and  staid,  as  finding  their  joys  at  home.  Theyl^:  too, 
believe  that  where  there  is  no  enjoyment  of  life,  there  can  be 
no  vigour  and  heart  in  speech  or  thou^t:  that  your  merry  heart 
goes  all  the  way,  your  sad  one  tires  in  a mile." 

Another  characteristic  of  the  British  is  given  in  the 
chapter  headed  "Cockayne,"  where  Bmerson  tells  us  that  "The  Eng- 
The  individual  lish  are  a nation  of  humorists.  Individual 

^ is  pushed  to  the  uttermost  bound  com- 

patible with  public  order.  Property  is  so  perfect,  that  it  seems 
the  craft  of  that  race,  and  not  to  exist  elsewhere.  The  King 
cannot  step  on  an  acre  which  the  peasant  refuses  to  sell.  A test 
ator  endows  a dog  or  a rookery,  and  Europe  cannot  interfere  with 
his  absurdity.  Every  individual  has  his  particular  v/ay  of  living 
which  he  pushes  to  folly,  and  the  decided  sympathy  of  his  com- 
patriots is  engaged  to  back  up  ^^r.  Crump’s  whim  by  statutes,  and 
chancellors,  and  horse -guards ."  We  might  be  led  by  this  to  thinx 
that  the  English  are  so  individualistic  and  egoistic  that  their 
own  undoing  would  be  wrought  by  their  excess  of  self-assertion 
and  self-reliance;  but  Emerson  tells  us  that  "nature  makes  noth- 
ing in  vain,  and  this  little  superfluity  of  self-regard  in  the 
English  brain,  is  one  of  the  se^irets  of  their  power  and  history. 
Por  it  sets  every  man  on  being  and  doing  what  he  really  is  and 
can."  In  other  words,  it  is  a further  evidence  of  and  help  to- 
wards the  understanding  of  that  truth  and  honor  which  is  so 
characteristic  of  the  -English. 


12  5 

speaking  of  the  material  characteristics  of  England,  Emer- 
son tells  us  that  "there  is  no  country  in  which  so  absolute  a 

homage  is  paid  to  wealth.”  This,  at  this 
late  day,  sounds  a trifle  strange  to  an 


"The  Homage 

t'o'  ^.Tealth" 


American  who  is  accustomed  to  hearing  his  country  styled  the 
"Land  of  the  i^ollar  Mark,"  and  a land  whose  monogramraed  initials 
are  supposed  to  represent  the  sign  of  coinage;  a country  where 
every  person  is  supposed,  or  alleged,  to  be  a money-grubber;  yet 
Emerson  says  that  "In  America,  there  is  a touch  of  shame  when  a 
man  exhibits  the  evidences  of  large  property,  as  if,  after  all, 
it  needed  apology.  But  the  Englishman  has  pure  pride  in  his 
wealth,  and  esteems  it  a final  certificate.  A coarse  logic  rules 
throughout  all  English  souls;--if  you  have  merit,  can  you  not 
show  it  by  your  Rood  clothes,  and  coach,  and  horses?  How  can 
a man  be  a gentleman  without  a pipe  of  wine? 

That  this  respect  for  money  and  the  tangible  evidence  of 
possession  of  it  harmonizes  well  with  the  attitude  of  the  people 
toward  their  aristocracy  is  well  shown  in  this  passage,  from  the 
chapter  on  "Aristocracy."  "The  frame  of  society  is  aristocratic, 
the  taste  of  the  people  is  loyal,  ^he  estates,  names  and  manners 
of  the  nobles  flatter  the  fancy  of  the  people  and  conciliate  the 
necessary  support."  This  would  be  a veyy  bad  thing  were  it  not 
for  one  fact,  which  Emerson  hastens  to  give  us  in  the  following. 
"The  Norwegian  pirate  got  what  he  could,  and  held  it  for  his 
eldest  son.  The  Norman  noble,  who  was  the  Norwegian  pirate  bao- 
tised,  did  likewise.  There  was  this  advantage  of  western  over 
oriental  nobility,  that  this  was  recruited  from  below.  English 


♦ 


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> jXt\  <V^  »•'  ■l'-'  ' 

, ■'  . *■  ^■•'  , i.i,  i’:. ’ '.'.  ‘ ’ - 'V'/if  ■«  ' tj.^- 


t:’T'  ( 

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- ...•;  v»  r;  .iSi\ 


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• ,'  . ^ 

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ilLiV.'  ‘‘f'lwv, 

« • I , 

♦ » 

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r 4..'  v't  ?’'■  1 •, 

';  ' n;' 

^ :\r  -V.  . sr>r  Aah^t 


ir'  v^  ■ . t I 
^■4/  ^ . i 

'f,  inet'-v  I 


Who  has  courage  and 


”The  Logical 
En  gLi  sh" 


history  is  aristocracy  with  the  doors  open, 
faculty,  let  him  come  in." 

"The  logical  iinglish,"  Emerson  avers,  "train  a scholar  as 
they  train  an  engineer.  Oxford  is  a Greek 
factory,  as  Wilton  mills  weave  carpet,  and 
Sheffield  grinds  steel.  They  know  the  use  of  a tutor^,  as  they 
know  the  use  of  a horse;  and  they  draw  the  greatest  amount  of 
benefit  out  of  both."  It  is  this  educational  system  in  England 
which  produces  the  culture  which  is  a notable  thing  there;  and 
which  we,  in  a measure,  lac^i,  as  evidenced  in  the  following,  where- 
in Emerson  speaks  of  the  young  English  collegians:  "Their  affec- 
tionate and  gregarious  ways  reminded  me  at  once  of  the  habits  of 
our  Cambridge  men,  though  I imputed  to  these  English  an  advantage 

in  their  secure  and  polished  manners." 

In  close  harmony  with  the  educational  system  of  England  is 
the  religion  of  the  country,  for  the  clergy  is  educated  to  a man. 
Emerson  tells  us  that  we  can  not  explain  any  people  at  the  present 
day  by  their  religion,  but  says  that"the  clergy  forea  thousand 

years  have  been  the  scholars  of  the  nation 
and  adds  that  "The  national  temperament 


Religion  and  the 
fSfTohar  Stability 


deeply  en.ioys  the  unbrokeh  order  and  tradition  of  its  church;  the 
liturgy,  ceremony,  architecture;  the  sober  grace,  the  good  company, 
the  connection  with  the  throne,  and  with  history,  which  adorn  it. 
And  whilst  it  endears  itself  thus  to  men  of  more  taste  than 
activity,  the  stability  of  the  English  nation  is  passionately  en- 
listed to  its  support,  from  its  inextricable  connection  with  the 
cause  of  public  order,  with  politics  and  with  the  funds." 


J . • i.'J  li.  “t 


Comnionsense  of 
The  KngiisK 


In  view  of  the  charaoteristics  already  pointed  out,  we  are 
not  surprised  when  Emerson  tells  us,  speaking  in  his  chapter  on 
"Literature,"  that  "A  strong  common  sense,  which  it  is  not  easy 
to  unseat  or  disturb,  marks  the  English  mind  for  a thousand  years: 

a rude  strength  newly  applied  to  thought, 
as  of  sailors  and  soldiers  who  had  lately 
learnt  to  read,  ^hey  have  no  fancy,  and  never  are  surprised  into 
a covert  or  witty  word,  such  as  oleased  the  Athenians  and  Italians, 
and  was  convertible  into  a fable  not  long  after;  but  they  delight 
in  strong  earthy  expression,  not  mistakeable,  coarsely  true  to 
the  human  body,  and,  though  spoken  among  princes,  equally  fit  and 
welcome  to  the  mob."  a similar  characteristic  imbues  their 
poetry;  "The  poet  nimbly  recovers  himself  from  every  sally  of  the 
imagination.  The  English  muse  loves  the  farmyard,  the  lane,  and 
market.  She  says,  with  X)©  Stael,  ’I  tramp  in  the  mire  with  wooden 
shoes,  whenever  they  would  force  me  into  the  clouds,’  E©r,  the 
Englishman  has  accurate  perceptions;  takes  hold  of  things  by  the 
right  end,  and  there  is  no  slipperiness  in  his  grasp."  Emerson 
goes  on,  in  his  description  of  the  literary  tastes  and  abilities 
of  the  English,  to  say  that  the  Englishman,  "When  he  is  intell- 
ectual, and  a poet  or  philosopher,  he  carries  the  same  hard  truth 
and  the  same  keen  machinery  into  the  mental  sphere.  His  mind 
must  stand  on  a fact."  When  an  English  writer  desires  to  write 
as  his  native  instincts  direct,  he  uses  "the  frame,  or  skeleton, 
of  Saxon  words,  and,  when  elevation  or  ornament  is  sought,  to 
interweave  Homan:  but  sparingly;  nor  is  a sentence  maae  of  Roman 
without  loss  of  strength." 


words  alone 


fciifi? i' '^m''¥*' 

■ "* 


J?T. 


►•"  ^ V A 


128 


The  Papers  and 
Politick 


It  is  advisable  to  speak  in  this  connection  of  "The  Times, 
the  greatest  of  newspapers  published  in  Eng- 
land, and,  in  Emerson’s  day,  the  greatest  of 


all  newspapers.  He  says  of  the  ^^nglish  newspaper  that  it  "stands 
in  antagonism  with  the  feudal  institutions,  and  it  is  all  the 
more  beneficent  succour  against  the  secretive  tendencies  of  a 
monarchy.  The  celebrated  i>ori' Somers  'knew  of  no  good  law  pro- 
posed and  passed  in  his  time,  to  which  the  public  papers  had  not 
directed  his  attention.’  There  is  no  corner  and  no  night.  A 
relentless  inquisition  drags  every  secret  to  the  day,  turns  the 
glai«  of  this  solar  microscope  on  every  malfaisance , so  as  to 
make  the  public  a more  terrible  spy  than  any  foreigner;  and  no 
weakness  can  be  taken  advantc^ge  of  by  an  enemy,  since  the  whole 
people  are  already  forewarned."  Just  how  great  a part  "The  Times 
plays  in  the  life  of  the  Englishman  is  accurately  indicated  by 
Emerson's  statement  as  follows:  "Here  in  England  every  day  a chapter 
Independence  of  of  Genesis,  and  a leader  in  the 

The  people  are  attracted  to  the  paper  because 


The  iaper^ 


it  is  independent  and  fearless;  for  this  paper  "attacks  a Duke  as 
readily  as  a policeman,  and  with  the  most  provoking  airs  of  con- 
descension." The  people  never  know  what  to  expect  from  the  paper; 
"they  do  not  know,  when  they  take  it  up,  what  their  paper  is  going 
to  say;  but,  above  all,  they  like  it  "for  the  nationality  and  con- 
fidence of  its  tone." 

Emerson  found  in  England  what  he  thought  the  best  among  all 
institutions;  "a  cultivated  person,  fitly  surrounded  by  a happy 
home,  'with  honour,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends,'  -^H  this 


^ - 


129 


leads  him  to  make  the  following  boldly  axiomatic  statement,  in 
the  chapter  "Result:"  "England  is  the  best  of  actual  nations." 

--0  — 


^ t -iMVf 

?■  Vi 

SI.  ‘ » 

• '.  V/  /f  •'>  y 


R .1'  (ft.  ■ • . .,.  •.•wiw, >'>i4'' . -vfc ■ . ,ijt ' is’'3iB-.ii)ill 

0c- -.■.■;■■  ■'  :'"*tV'»V::;"®‘';#S<  ^ 

iv'  ■■  ■'■■■• 


1^0 


Bibliography 

Emerson’s  complete  works,  (Including  the  Journals) 

Alcott,  A.  B.  - "Estimate  of  the  Character  and  Genius  of 

Emerson 

Coo)2e,  G,  V/,  - "Emerson  - His  Life,  Writings,  and  Philosophy." 
Mead,  E,  D,  - The  Influence  of  Emerson. 


